Marbles
by Miami Blackheart
Summary: Nikita had always dreamed of having a family. A happily ever after with the man she loved. But things are never as simple as it seems. What happens when that dream becomes her worst nightmare?
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer (I always seem to forget to put this): Nikita is not owned by me no matter how much I'd dream and fantasize about it. If it were, the show would already be renewed up to the 10__th__ season or more. And there'd definitely be WAY more Mikita moments. Oh well._

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><p><strong>Hey everyone!<strong>

**I'm back! **

**Okay, I've got good and bad news… sort of. It depends on how you look at it.**

**The Bad: my other story, One, hasn't been updated yet. It's on _temporary _hiatus for now. So sorry about that! The last chapter is halfway done but I just had to stop because I couldn't figure out what to write next. Writer's block got to me. But don't fret! I will update it when the time comes (which is **_**hopefully**_** sooner than later).**

**The Good: I have a new story! Okay, so I know I shouldn't be writing a multi-chap again when I haven't even finished my other one but this plot has just been bouncing around my head that I just **_**had **_**to write it. Maybe I'll get to finish this first. Let's see then. :]**

**So anyway… I'll write more, and some other details later. Just scroll down now and read, my friends! Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Marbles<strong>

Prologue

"_You wonder if it's a place worth living_…" – 2x02

She suffers because she loves.

But this, this was torture.

Seeing him with her.

Jealousy crawls under her skin.

Nikita had always sensed that they had this _connection_.

So when she sees Cassandra hold Michael's hand while on a walk, it silently yet devastatingly rips through her chest.

Though somehow she anticipates that.

But at some point when Michael turns around and _kisses _her, well… that's different.

It was something else.

A turning point.

It's the moment she realizes that she has had enough. There is only so much heartache one person can bear.

After deleting the video feed, she gets up and leaves the work station.

"Nikki?" Birkhoff warily asks her as she passes by him to go upstairs.

She surprises him with a pitifully, heart-wrenching glance before telling him, "Pack your things."

"_What_? Why?"

"We're moving."

I I

"_Nikita hasn't called me back. It's been awhile."_ – 2x10

I I

Michael should have known something was wrong when he was receiving less calls from Nikita than usual.

And then, one day, it just stops.

At first, he thinks that she's just busy. Oversight and Division preoccupying her time. But then days pass and nothing.

Anxiety slowly fills his every waking moment. Even in his dreams, he frets that something bad may have happened to her.

He tries calling her but the phone is no longer in use.

Sympathizing at his distress, Cassandra tells Michael to just go and personally check on the woman's welfare. She assures him that she and their son would be fine in the time he will be gone.

He didn't need to be told twice. He is on the next flight home.

Only to find that the place he thinks of as home is completely empty.

He searches for clues if there was any foul play that may have caused Nikita and Birkhoff's disappearance.

There are none.

Which meant they left voluntarily.

Without telling him.

And judging by the minimal amount of dust collecting on the floor, it happened only recently.

Confused, upset and angry, he whips out his cellphone and dials for the one person he can turn to now.

"Cassandra, I need your help. They're gone."

And so begins his mission to find her.

Not knowing what to expect when he actually found her.

6 years later.

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><p><strong>So, whad'dya all think? (Besides it being short. XD)<strong>

**Hit me up in the reviews and let me know! Good, bad, it'll always be appreciated.**

**Okay, so this fic is kinda different from the ones I usually write. Just something I'm trying. And while we're at that, I also sort of changed the way I write here. I'm using present tense, but I'll be reverting to my old style in the next chapter. Haha. Oh, and ****thank you so much for reading****!**

**Oh, one last thing! Wasn't Arising just freakishly EPIC? And the Mikita scenes - OMG! *faints***

**Till next update then. Stay awesome.**

**-Dani**


	2. Chapter 1: Expectations

**Hey!**

**Just wanna say a huge ****thank you ****to everyone who read, and a Mikita hug for those who reviewed! Everyone is so sweet. I swear, I was grinning like a crazy person while reading them. Haha.**

**Well, anyway, I guess most of you already know where this story is heading. ;)**

**Okay, so…**

**Update time, guys! Enjoy! :)**

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><p><span>Chapter 1: Expectations<span>

"_You cannot keep putting me in the middle of your relationship. It's not fair to me. It's not my job._" – 2x02

Barbados.

He should have known, he thought. Nikita always dreamed for a place by the beach.

It just never occurred to him that she'd actually go for that dream without him. Or at least, _telling _him.

He had to find that out through a MI6 agent.

Took them long enough though, almost driving him mad with the wait. He couldn't believe it took them 6 years before they managed to get a location. Nevertheless, he was thankful for the agency's help.

With blessings from Cassandra and his now-11-year-old son, Max, Michael wasted no time chartering the earliest flight he could get to the tropical island.

The sun was already preparing to set in the Atlantic by the time he arrived. Smoothing the crumpled paper he had been holding on to ever since he left London, Michael checked again and made sure he was at the right address. But since this was the only structure in a half-mile radius, he didn't really need to doubt if this was it.

Set at the end of a cul-de-sac of palm trees, was a beautiful 2-storey villa. Clearly Spanish-inspired with the verandas, balconies, large windows, and shingled-roof made out of reddish-brown clay. Though it exuded a rather comfortable and homey quality despite the isolation, it still maintained a sense of picturesque elegance in an understated manner.

Just the way Nikita liked it.

Michael felt his chest tighten a bit. This was the house Nikita pointed to him in a magazine the last time they were here, a few years back, after that whole thing with Ramon. Nikita said that she wanted this house, or at least, something that looked like this. He told her back then that they were going to buy _this one_ when everything with Division and Oversight was over.

But it seemed she didn't really wait.

What bothered him most was that, why didn't she tell him?

And that's just the first question. There was still a long list of things he wanted to ask her.

Making his way up the house, Michael was met with a familiar-looking black Maserati pulling out of the bricked driveway. The car purred to a stop the moment the driver saw and recognized him. Stepping out of the car, while pulling off his sunglasses, the first thing the driver said was:

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Michael raised an amused eyebrow at him, "Nice to see you too, Birkhoff."

"No, no, no, no," he muttered, walking up to his friend, "What are you doing here, Mikey?"

Eyebrows knitting in confusion at the strange welcome, Michael asked, "Where's Nikita?"

A brief smile passed Birkhoff's face. Then, placing his hands on Michael's shoulder, Birkhoff turned him around and pulled him down the driveway. He told him, hastily and with a sense of nervousness in his voice, "Y'know, it's great to see you and all, Mikey. Totally missed you, man. Oh, and I'm fine, in case you wanna know. Nikki too. But now's not really a good time so you should just get back to London. Speaking of which, how's that kid of yours – Max, right?"

Michael stopped walking and turned back to stare at his friend, puzzled. This definitely was not the reaction he was expecting. There was something making his friend act this way. "Birkhoff," he said, almost warningly, "what's the matter?"

"What? Nothing!" He scoffed, but his voice raised an octave higher. Birkhoff cleared his throat before talking again, "_Nothing_, Mikey. What makes you think that?"

"Because, for starters, it doesn't need Shadownet to know you're lying."

"Oh, I uhh…" Birkhoff trailed off, busted.

Grabbing the split-second opportunity, Michael stepped around his friend and made his way back up the house, his interest piqued because of Birkhoff's reaction to his presence. Though a second later, Birkhoff overtook him and stood in front of him, blocking his way. Michael took a step to the side, but Birkhoff followed. He took another in a different direction, but his friend continued to oppose him.

Realizing this was going nowhere, Michael sighed and asked, slightly annoyed, "_What_, Birkhoff?"

Knowing he couldn't exactly take the other guy on physically, Birkhoff exhaled deeply and then just admitted, "Uh, I just don't think it's such a great idea, man."

"What is?"

"You seeing Nikki."

Crossing his arms across his chest, Michael asked, "And why is that?"

Birkhoff sighed and stared at his friend as if he was talking to a kid, "You don't see it."

The statement struck a sense of déjà vu with Michael. A slight frown crossed his features. "See what?"

"Mikey, when you left six years ago to play house with little Max," Birkhoff explained, "did you ever stop, even for just a second, to think about how Nikki felt?"

"I did," Michael said, looking around the area they were in. He never imagined that he'd be talking about _this _(and to Birkhoff, of all people) in the middle of the driveway just minutes of his arrival. "But it was so hard at that time, and then Nikita told me to stay. So I –"

"Oh, that's just _great_," Birkhoff gibed as he shook his head lightly, "I thought you knew Nikki better than that."

The other man was silent.

"Of course she'd tell you to stay," Birkhoff continued, "it's _Nikki_ we're talking about here. She's all about the picket fences and rainbows. You know how she's all hardcore with the family stuff. And with her and you and Max and the kid's mother, she'd rather take her self out of _that_ equation."

"I didn't –"

"Y'know, she said that a part of her just wished you fought harder, Mikey. That you shouldn't have let her go just like that. Because that's all she really wanted: someone to fight for her."

Michael stared at his friend, feeling like he was hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. Birkhoff was right: he should have known better. Nikita had always been the martyr, sacrificing even her own happiness for the benefit of others. And he should've known her enough to realize that she wouldn't think twice if it was for him.

He should have seen that when she walked away from him in London.

"What happened, Birkhoff?" Michael asked his friend cautiously, scared of what he was to hear… what he had done.

"The first few days were rough," Birkhoff admitted, nudging a stray pebble with his shoe, "it was like trying to piece Humpty-Dumpty back together again blindfolded. I gotta tell ya, dealing with female hormones is beyond me. After the third week, I just had to call all king's horses and all – well, _almost _all – the queen's men."

Michael raised his eyebrows in disbelief. He couldn't even begin to imagine what may have happened during that time, for Birkhoff to call for help. And the fact that they didn't even bother to call for him made him feel worse. Guilt racked his mind. He should have been there for her.

He had to make things up to Nikita somehow.

"How is she now?" he asked.

Birkhoff scratched his head in uneasiness. He had always imagined and played this scene out in his head, on what he would do or what he would say the next time he met Michael again so as to make him pay for what he made Nikki go through. She was like a sister to him, and to see her broken and suffering, it brought out a protective streak in him.

But seeing the remorse and longing evident in Michael's eyes made things harder for him.

This situation was _way_ much easier in his head.

"She's, uhh… better, I guess." Birkhoff confessed. Looking at his friend squarely in the eye, he said, "But that's the thing, Mikey, she is _now_. You walk in through that door, and then when you leave again, you're not the sorry schmuck who's gonna be stuck picking up the pieces."

"But I'm not leaving without seeing her, Birkhoff." Michael said firmly, shaking his head, "It took me and the MI6 _six years _just to find–"

"_Seriously_? That _long_?" Birkhoff's face twisted in incredulity. "If this were a kidnapping, we would've been dead–!"

"Yeah, well, you didn't exactly make it any easier. But that's not it, Birkhoff," Michael told him, "I have waited too long for this. And if I didn't fight for her then, I am now. I _will_ make things work between me and her."

Birkhoff eyed his friend closely, unsure of what to do. "I don't know, Mikey…"

"And I'm never leaving again, not if I can help it."

"_That_ remains to be seen."

"Do you really hate me that much?" Michael asked lightly.

"What? _No_," Birkhoff said. "It's just that… God, I hate being the bearer of bad news."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just," he shrugged, "word from the wise, my friend: expect the unexpected. People change over time, man... And it's been a _long_ time since you've last seen Nikki."

Michael's eyebrows knitted, "What do you mean?"

Birkhoff looked at the orange-red horizon for a second before gazing back to Michael, "When you walk into that house, just don't expect that you're still the only one who holds Nikki's heart anymore."

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><p><strong>Sooo… how was it?<strong>

**Thoughts? Recommendations? Guesses? Corrections? Let me know!**

**And well, okay, I'm sorry for disappointing anyone who thought Michael was finally going to meet Nikita in this chapter. It's going to be in the next! So, please, patiently wait for it. :)**

**Thanks again for reading (and also to those who are gonna click the Review button down below)! Haha!**

**Oh! And one last thing! How awesome was that last episode? Nikita and Amanda rocked that one! Well, everyone did. So excited to see what's gonna happen next - better prepare our Mikita hearts for that one, I guess. Gah, I feel like April 20 is so FAAAAR away!**

**This show should totally get renewed. It should not even be in question.**

**- Dani**


	3. Chapter 2: Meetings

**Hey hey hey!**

**Okay, as always, I just want to thank everyone of who is reading this story! And the reviews – OMG! I honestly did _not_ expect so many to be into this. When I read all the feedback, my jaw literally dropped. Seriously! You guys are all so sweet. :)**

**Anyway (if you actually do read this portion), I'll finally explain some things ABOUT this story. This was originally intended to be all in Nikita's POV, but I just had to put in parts that were in Michael's POV in the previous chapters to get things rolling. Starting from this chapter though, everything will be what it was supposed to be. **

**That's also why Nikita is the one only listed in the characters portion of the story. Am I making any sense? Anyhoo, I promise, it'll all become clear as the story goes on.**

**So… I'm shutting up now. I'll explain other details later on.**

**And now, I present to you… the next chapter! :]**

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><p><span>Chapter 2: Meetings<span>

"_And now you have a chance to get it back_." – 2x08

Nikita had always loved the beach.

There was something about the sand and salt water that attracted her to it. Not to mention, the usual calmness of the ocean brought her tranquility and serenity.

Staring out the ceiling-length window, Nikita sighed. The white sand and setting June sun looked so inviting, and she was contemplating of doing her yoga session out in the backyard patio.

She just had to finish painting her toenails a vivid purple.

Waiting for the nail polish to dry, Nikita pulled her long legs up close to her and wrapped her arms around them. The chaise longue she had been sitting on had the perfect view of the private strip of beach and the Atlantic Ocean that was just a few steps away from the back of the villa.

Up till now, she still couldn't believe that she managed to get Birkhoff to buy this humble abode for her. She loved this place, as well as the people that lived with her in it.

Although she was alone in the house right now, she really didn't mind it. In fact, she relished the short minutes of rest and relaxation without the craziness of a full household.

But there was just something about today that made her feel lonelier than usual.

Setting her chin on her knee, she gazed at the reflection thrown back at her. She definitely looked tired, like she needed a good night's sleep – which was true. She hasn't been getting any sleep these past few days. She'd toss and turn in bed all night for some reason, and no matter what she did, she just couldn't hold her sleep for longer than an hour. A bottle of sleeping pills was in her medicine cabinet but she never gave it a second glance. She wasn't _that _desperate. At least, not yet.

Someone told her she might be experiencing some conversion disorder; that her insomnia was her mind's defense mechanism against some other strong emotion that she may be stifling. Like missing a certain someone. Or lacking a specific human interaction. But Nikita just brushed that idea off with a roll of her eyes.

The truth was though; she just didn't really want to dig into _that _wound. Years may have passed but it was still fresh and raw as ever. She may have repressed and pushed all the hurt, the pain, and the anger to the back of her mind, but it was still there. A ticking bomb ready to explode when given the chance. Sometimes though, when she was feeling masochistic and vulnerable, she'd let those emotions come to surface and claw at her chest so much that it was the only thing she could feel. It made her numb.

A single tear rolled down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away with the back of her hand. She sighed again. There was no use dwelling in the past.

Nikita was clearing up her mani-pedi set by the time she heard the front door open. A smile slowly crept to her lips as she turned around and called out, "I'm here, babe–"

A gasp and the sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the living room.

Nikita was frozen in her spot, her lips slightly parted as a look of surprise was plastered on her face.

She couldn't believe it. She blinked to make sure she wasn't just hallucinating.

She wasn't.

A second passed.

He was still there.

A heartbeat.

"Michael?" she finally asked, her traitorous voice suddenly getting smaller.

He somehow looked taken aback at her reaction.

"You were expecting someone else." Michael told her. Whether it was a statement or a question, she wasn't sure.

Nikita didn't really know what to say or what to do at that point. Yes, she was expecting someone. And it wasn't who she wanted Michael to see just yet because she didn't know how he'd react to that. Her heartbeat had started to pick up its pace.

She couldn't deny, a part of her was rather… _delighted_ that Michael was there in front of her. But a conflicting part, the part that was making her chest constrict with a flurry of emotions, also wasn't. She turned away from him to search for a cleaning rag, saying, "Doesn't matter."

"Nikita."

Trying her best to ignore him, Nikita crouched on the floor and picked up the broken pieces of glass and discarded them in a nearby trashcan. She was already wiping off the purple nail polish from the tiled floor when she felt Michael come near her.

"Nikita," he said again, kneeling beside her.

She stopped. Turning her head to look at him, her throat dried up. They were too near to each other for her comfort. After 6 years, he heartbreakingly looked the same as she remembered, save an etching of one or two more worry lines. But her throat tightened as she looked directly into those familiar green eyes – the very same ones that have seen her soul… it was just too much. The close proximity of their faces and bodies after a long time of not seeing each other was unnerving. Taking a step away, she cleared her throat and asked, "What are you doing here, Michael?"

"I came to see you." He told her, gently. Sensing her edgy standoffishness, he also took a step back to give her more space.

"Well," Nikita said, standing up, "You saw me."

"Right." Michael gave a wry smirk, following suit.

Nikita walked over to a coffee table and placed the soiled cleaning rag back inside one of its drawers. Then, she turned back around to face her unexpected visitor. Crossing her arms over her chest, she realized that it was an action that was more of holding her broken self together rather than a closed gesture. But she was still silently grateful of the 6-feet of space she had put in between them. Inhaling deeply and shakily, she started, "So…"

"So…"

They both looked at each other, not really knowing what to say. Awkward tension saturating the air around them.

Nikita found herself wishing that Michael should just attack her or something. Anything. She'd take that better compared to _this._

The stares, the uneasiness, the unspoken words that were waiting to be said… it was hanging over them like an overwhelming shadow.

"How's Max?" she finally asked, not bearing the agonizing seconds of uncomfortable silence anymore.

"He's good," Michael told her. "He's eleven now. Bright kid, very athletic. He's in his school's soccer team."

Nikita just nodded and chewed her lower lip. Looking away from him, she glanced out to the beach, "And Cassandra?"

"She's doing fine too. Still with the MI6, but mostly doing intel work now."

"Oh. Good for her."

Another round of silence.

"Nikita–," he said, after a few moments, but it was at the same time she also started, "Michael–".

Their eyes met for a brief moment.

"You go first."

"No, you."

Silence. Again.

Anyone could almost hear a needle drop in the room.

She didn't know how much longer of this she can take.

"I see you bought the house," Michael conversationally said, trying to break the quiet.

Nikita glanced at him for a second before looking back down to her purple toenails, "Yeah. Just… wanted to settle down, I guess."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Michael open his mouth to say something but decided against it a second later.

Tension rolled off of them in waves.

"Listen, Nikita," Michael said, a few moments later, taking a few hesitant steps towards her, "Birkhoff said some things and it sounded like you were – I don't know if it's my business to ask, but… are you seeing some–"

The sound of the front door opening and closing interrupted what Michael wanted to say. Nikita closed her eyes and let out a sigh of resignation, as Michael looked over his shoulder to see who the newcomer was.

"Hey, Nikita, there's a car out front – oh."

Nikita opened her eyes and looked at Alex. The same look of surprise Nikita had on earlier, was also found on her face. But Nikita nearly smiled at her almost-sister, seeing that she entered the living room with one hand behind her back, no doubt holding a gun as a minor precaution.

"Hello, Alex." Michael greeted, rather sheepishly.

"Hey," she replied, almost uncertainly. The younger woman stared at Michael like he was some foreign object that magically sprouted in the room. She shook her head in disbelief and transferred her gaze to Nikita, saying, "Well, this certainly complicates things."

"Yeah."

Michael furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at the exchange. Looking back to Nikita, he asked, "What things?"

Staring back at him, Nikita was perplexed on what to answer. She threw a glance over to Alex but she just shrugged.

"Hey, everything alright in there?"

Nikita ran a hand through her hair with an exasperated sigh, while Alex looked alarmed. Michael looked back again over his shoulder, surprised at the new yet familiar voice floating around the house.

"Yeah," Alex quickly called out, "But don't come –"

But she never had the chance to finish her sentence as Owen already strolled into the room. He stopped short seeing that all eyes were on him and his inopportune timing. Sensing the awkward silence that he had just walked into, he tried to break it by saying, "Oh, uhh… hey, Michael. Didn't expect to see you here."

Nikita gazed at Michael for his reaction. She was absolutely sure that he didn't hear what Owen just said. Not when his attention was captured by the little girl clinging onto Owen's neck. She was rubbing her eyes with the back of her tiny hand and then yawned, apparently just waking up from the car ride she was just in.

Looking over at the child, Nikita knew Michael would compare the similarity the young girl and Alex had with the wavy brown hair.

What he didn't know was that the young girl actually inherited her hair not from her mother, but from her father.

Turning around in Owen's arms and seeing Nikita, the little girl gave a heartwarming smile that brought out the deep dimple on her right cheek.

Oh, things were _definitely _going to get complicated.

"Mommy!"

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><p><strong>And that's it!<strong>

**Yes, Nikita has a kid! Many of you already expected that, I guess. Haha. :)**

**Okay, so let me know of your thoughts about this chapter in the Reviews! And, if you have any recommendations, criticisms, and corrections too!**

**Next chapter will be Michael's reaction! And more information about the kid. Like her name, for instance. :]**

**- Dani**


	4. Chapter 3: Answers

**Hey everyone!**

**Can I just say how AWESOME you all are? I cannot even find the right words to express my thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. It was totally overwhelming to see all of your responses. I think my heart just expanded in my chest. Really!**

**Not to mention that Nikita is back on… So, yeah… Whirlwind of emotions. ;)**

**Oh wait! Before we move on, I want to clarify to all that this story starts off right where 2x08 ended. So the events in 2x09 and onwards, didn't happen. Which also means that Oversight, Division, Gogol… yeah, still there. They'll be in here somewhere – oops! I'll stop there. Don't want to spoil everyone. Haha.**

**Well, anyway, here we go!**

**The next chapter, my friends! Enjoy!**

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><p><span>Chapter 3: Answers<span>

"_Is there a complication_?"

"_Yes… A little one_." – 2x05

Nikita could feel Michael's gaze boring into her.

But she ignored him as she picked up the young girl running towards her, loose brown curls bouncing along the way.

"Hey, baby," Nikita smiled, and kissed the girl's forehead. Turning around so as not to see Michael's expression, she carried the child near the window. Smoothing the young girl's hair away from her pretty face, Nikita asked, "How was your afternoon out?"

The young girl cupped her hands around her mother's ear and whispered, still rather loudly, "Auntie Lex bought me ice cream!"

Nikita chuckled, "Oh, did she?"

"Mm-hmm!"

"What flavor?"

"Chocolate!"

"Nice! Did you say 'thank you'?"

"Mm-hmm!"

"That's my girl."

"Mommy," the child whispered again, peering over her mother's head, "who is that?"

A lump formed in Nikita's throat. She swallowed it down but with a bit of difficulty.

"Oh, he's a…" Glancing over her shoulder towards Michael, Nikita sighed. Shifting the child's weight on her other arm, she gazed into the girl's bright eyes. "… a friend."

Nikita was silently thankful that the child was still too young to comprehend her mother's uncomfortableness.

The little girl blinked and then curiously gazed back to the unfamiliar man standing in the middle of the living room. There was a wondering glint in her bright eyes as she tilted her head to the side to get a better look.

But, no longer wanting to prolong the inevitable, Nikita took in a cleansing breath before turning around and walked over to Michael. Glancing over to Owen and Alex, who both took an involuntary step closer to show their support, she just smiled and shook her head lightly. She could handle this.

Or, so she hopes.

"Michael," Nikita said when they were in front of him, her voice surprisingly steady. Michael transferred his gaze from the child in her arms to her, shock and confusion still evident in his eyes. Nikita introduced, "This is Liane. Though she prefers being called Ilya… M-My daughter."

All these years and Nikita's heart still gave a proud little somersault whenever she said that.

Looking at Ilya, she said "Pumpkin, meet… Michael."

Nikita could only watch as her daughter smiled and said 'hi' to the man standing in front of them.

At their proximity, Nikita was certain Michael had a clear view of – and was undoubtedly assessing – the young girl's features. Though she had much lighter sun-kissed skin, she captured a lot of her mother's angelic face along with the high cheekbones and full lips.

Except for the eyes.

Thickly framed with long lashes were almond-shaped, mischievous, piercing green eyes.

Just like _his_ eyes.

She saw the suspicion dawn over Michael's face.

It formed a knot in her stomach.

"Hey, Ilya, _baby_," Nikita quickly said, pulling her daughter's attention back to her. "Can you do Mommy a favor?"

"Mm-hmm," the child nodded.

"Why don't you go wash up with Auntie Lex?" Nikita said, setting her daughter on her feet while she crouched down to be level with her. She winked, "I'll be with you in a bit. Mommy has to finish something."

"M'kay," Ilya responded. Before skipping off towards Alex, she glanced up to Michael and said, "Bye."

Nikita watched as the pair disappeared into the hallway. For a few more seconds, Owen was rooted in his place, uncertain if he should stay or not. It wasn't until Nikita gave him a reassuring nod that prompted him to leave after sending an encouraging half-smile her way.

Once she was sure that everyone was out of earshot, Nikita let out an audible breath and stood up. Crossing her arms across her abdomen, she gazed up to Michael, who still looked flabbergasted, and told him, "Go ahead. Ask."

Michael looked at Nikita like he wasn't sure what she just said.

Uncomfortable silence settled in between them again.

Holding her steady gaze after a few moments, he finally inquired, "How old is she?"

"Four. Turning five this coming Saturday."

"Is she…?" Michael trailed off, finding it hard to complete the sentence.

But Nikita knew what he wanted to ask. Glancing out the window, she set her gaze on the sliver of orange sun that was now visible against the distant horizon.

There it was, the question she had dreaded the moment she saw Michael.

_No_, a small voice in her head said.

But, after all these years, she had to do at least one right thing. The truth will set her free.

_It's not worth it_.

But it's not like she could deny the resemblance.

_No._

But it's _Michael_.

Nikita chewed on her lower lip.

_No_.

Turning back to face him, she clenched her fists to brace herself.

Silently, she gave a small nod.

Various emotions ran through Michael at that moment. There was a look of joy and excitement, a gleam in his eyes, and a smile that briefly passed Michael's face; painfully reminding Nikita of the same expression he had years ago when he asked her if she was pregnant. She may have said no back then but neither of them knew that it was the wrong answer at that time.

But then his expression changed into something akin to anger, hurt, and betrayal as he realized that she had kept this from him. He took a step back away from her, all those emotions in his eyes as he looked at her.

All these years and he never knew he had another child – a _daughter_.

A daughter who didn't know he was her _father_.

The look on Michael's face was making Nikita's throat start to constrict.

"How –?"

"I think you know how babies are made."

"No," Michael shook his head, "I meant, when –?"

"Do you honestly think I kept track on how many times we had…" Nikita snapped defensively, her brown eyes flashing menacingly. Looking away, she took another deep breath to calm her self down. Her throat was getting unbearably scratchy. Dropping her gaze to the floor for a few seconds, she continued, "Definitely before Belarus. My guess, right here on this island."

Michael's eyebrows knitted, "But when I asked you if you were pregnant –"

"I didn't know. Yet. Because I wasn't exhibiting any of the usual symptoms."

"So when _did_ you know?"

Nikita's lips formed into a hard line before answering, "3 weeks after London."

He looked lost. "How far along were you back then?"

"Around 2 months."

"So at that time… Belarus, Division, Ryan, London – you already were –?"

Her reply was a curt, "Yes."

"Nikita," Michael said, taking a step towards her. He placed a gentle hand on her arm, "why didn't you call me when you knew?"

The question hit a very sore nerve.

With the sudden rush of anger getting the best of her, Nikita brushed Michael's hand away and stepped back. Looking up to him, her voice was tense as she lashed, "And tell you what? That I was _pregnant_ and things around me were spiraling out of control? That I didn't know the first _thing _on how to be a _mother_? Or that I had been so _scared_ that Division or Gogol would find out about me? Or that I've never been so _vulnerable_ and so _lost_ and _I needed_ _you_ _so much_?"

"Nikita–"

"It doesn't really matter anymore, Michael." Her voice broke. "_Everything's done_."

Knowing she couldn't carry on with this conversation any longer, Nikita turned away and left the living room without another word and before any tear fell. She was already by the stairs when she heard Birkhoff announce his arrival and that dinner would be ready in 5 minutes.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Nikita leaned on the nearest wall and slid to the floor. Hot tears were falling down her cheeks and she closed her eyes tightly to try to control them. But they still came as her heart twisted in her chest and soon, she was silently gasping for air. She was becoming frustrated with herself for being so vulnerable when it came to Michael.

In her mind's eye, Nikita recalled everything as if they only happened this morning. How she was a wreck and broke down in Birkhoff's hesitant and uncertain arms the moment he picked her up at the airport from London, how she mumbled incoherent phrases of 'he's gone' and 'he's never coming back', how she spent days and days holed up in her room crying herself to sleep so that she wouldn't need to feel the pain, or of how angry she felt that she threw anything she could get her hands on…

It wasn't until Alex and Owen had arrived from God-knows-where that she had started to venture out of her room again. It wasn't until Birkhoff thrust a box of pregnancy tests in her hands while bluntly saying that she was suspiciously getting bigger even though she wasn't eating more than 3 spoonfuls of food everyday. It wasn't until she saw the positive pregnancy test that she decided she had to pick herself up again. And she's been picking her broken self up ever since.

Everything's done.

_But wait_, the small voice in her head echoed, she's forgetting the irony of everything that's happened today; Michael had arrived a day after Father's Day.

Nikita sighed a bitter laugh.

Thinking it was better to leave before someone else found her there, Nikita stood up and padded down the carpeted hallway.

Making her way to Ilya's room, Nikita instantly calmed down when she saw her daughter come out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head as she had just finished with her bath. Nikita bent down and smiled as she unraveled the towel and rubbed Ilya's hair dry with it. She almost smiled, amazed on how much calming effect her daughter had on her.

A miracle, she really was.

Nikita let out a small chuckle when she saw Alex exit the same bathroom minutes later with the upper-half of her body drenched. There was even a foam of soapsuds on the top of her head.

"Ilya definitely needs to be enrolled in a swimming class," Alex commented, reaching for a dry towel from the cabinet just outside the bathroom. She was careful not to drip a lot of water on the plush amber carpet, "She just enjoys the water too much."

Nikita laughed lightly. "Of course she does. Especially when it's bubble baths almost every other night, isn't that right, pumpkin?"

Ilya giggled and nodded.

"Why don't you go and dry off. I'll finish up in here," Nikita told Alex. "Dinner's ready."

Alex nodded. She placed a hand on Nikita's shoulder as she passed and asked softly, "You okay? You look stressed."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Nikita gave a rueful smile. "But I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"I can handle it. Thanks."

"You know we're all here for you."

"I know. And thank you."

With that, Alex left.

A few minutes later, they were all in the dining room eating the food Birkhoff brought. The whole dinner was a bit uncomfortable with Michael there. Or at least, that's how Nikita felt. He sat across from her in the round table so there were times when she had no choice but to look at him. They'd exchange discomforting glances before looking away from each other.

Without Ilya, who was a very talkative 4-year-old, the whole affair would've been a silent one. Save for the few random questions Alex, Owen or Birkhoff would ask Michael, and vice versa – a futile attempt to make the dinner less awkward than it already was. But Nikita was lost in her own thoughts to really bother. Usually, she would be listening to her daughter, all amused and enraptured, but tonight, there were just too many things going on in her head that made it hard for her to focus.

After dinner, Ilya yawned and looked like her eyelids were getting heavier by the second, so Nikita picked her up and brought her to her room. Along the way, she teased her daughter how she was such a sleepyhead. So while being tucked into her bed (after a sloppy battle with the toothbrush), the young girl protested feebly that she wasn't tired yet and she wanted to stay up.

Nikita chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. She told Ilya, "But if you won't sleep, you wouldn't grow tall. Do you want Uncle Nerd to call you Shorty forever?"

That got her daughter to snuggle in deeper into her pillows without any more objections. Minutes later, the little girl succumbed to sleep.

Pushing a few strands of brown hair away from Ilya's face, Nikita leaned over and kissed the child's forehead. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Michael was leaning against the doorframe watching.

Leaving quietly and gently, Nikita pulled the bedroom door silently to a close behind her.

Michael, who went to stand on the other side of the wide hallway, said, "We have to talk."

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><p><strong>Well, how'dya all think?<strong>

**Okay, I know Ilya is a boy's name. But then, so is Nikita. Originally, that is. Well, anyway! There's a reason for that - why she's Liane/Ilya. Next chapter! Oh, and how do you like the name, by the way? :D**

**So, review, okay? I love reading your thoughts.**

**Hope this update didn't disappoint. ;)**

**Till next chapter then.**

**- Dani**


	5. Chapter 4: Breakdown

**Hello hello!**

**I'll keep my A/N here short. You'll need to read the update first before I could post what I want to share to all of you. ;)**

**Oh, and as always, a huge THANK YOU to all you readers and reviewers. You guys are THE best.**

**Well, anyway, here is the next update! And… drama alert! :]**

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><p><span>Chapter 4: Breakdown<span>

"_It sounds like you have something to tell me_." – 2x06

"'Light'."

"What?"

"Liane…" Nikita said wistfully, staring up at the stars blinking brightly under the night sky. A cool breeze swept through them while the sound of the waves crashing on the shore filled the gaps of silence.

She felt a pang of self-loath, letting her vulnerability and anger do the talking earlier. Michael just only wanted answers; anybody would in the same situation. So she agreed to the chance to talk again – she owed him at least that much.

Nikita finally looked at Michael, who was standing by the edge of the patio watching her. She continued, "Her name is a combination of letters taken from Elizabeth, Haley, and Daniel. I didn't think of a nickname back then, but when she started talking, she couldn't pronounce 'Liane' and just kept on saying 'Ilya'. It kinda stuck."

"It's a beautiful name."

A small, appreciative smile passed through Nikita's lips. "Surprisingly, both names also mean 'light'. It was kind of coincidental that she really's like that to me – my reason to keep going, a future that I had to fight and live for, the light I had to protect… I wouldn't have made it without her and the others during those dark times."

She looked down, not bearing to see the change in Michael's eyes as he took in her last words.

"Nikita, you still should've told me," he reasoned with her, gently. "You didn't have to go through all that alone. I could've been here with you."

"And what? You'd leave Max all alone? No," Nikita shook her head lightly, "You couldn't do that. _I_ couldn't do that. At his age at that time, Max needed you to be his –"

"But you sacrificed _our _daughter from having her own father." Michael rebuked.

"Michael," Nikita said softly, looking up back to him. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat on the outdoor sofa, "it never was like that. Ilya had – well, not really you there as her father but she had… father _figures_: Birkhoff, Owen – they're surprisingly very good with her… Ilya had _them_. Max didn't. He never even had the _right _father to be there to guide him. He needed _you_ more."

He glanced sharply away for a few moments, before gazing back. In a firm voice, Michael told her, "It wasn't your choice to make."

Nikita sighed. Tilting her head to the side, she tried her best to reason out, "Can you blame me? I knew that separated, we were better, safer. Our enemies would less likely find out about our children that way... Think about everything that's happened in our life in the past six years we were apart. You'll see it was for the best."

After a few seconds of silence, Nikita stood up and walked over to Michael. She looked up to him with sad brown eyes and continued, her voice slightly strained, "Michael, after all these years, I'd like to think that I still know you… And I can see it in your eyes that you know I'm right."

"It doesn't matter what's right, Nikita!" Michael suddenly reproached, his eyes darkening like emerald ice, "I have a daughter and you never said _anything _to me. You made the decision by yourself again and kept me in the dark all this time. Just like what you did before with Max."

"_Fine_! It was all _my _fault!" Nikita shot back through gritted teeth. Anger flaring again, she clenched her fist, trying to control her self, "Just like with Max, I kept it a secret because I was trying to protect the _both_ of you! Do you want me to say '_I'm sorry_'for the six years I've been trying to keep _our _daughter safe? Would that make you feel better?"

Michael hesitated for a second. Painful emotions were evident in his eyes. "I'm her _father_, Nikita. I have a say about her well-being too."

"But you weren't here, Michael. You were busy being with Max and _Cassandra_!"

"You were the one who told me to stay," Michael reminded her. He narrowed his eyes at her, "And now you're angry that I did?"

Nikita mashed her lips in a thin, hard line. She looked away and crossed her arms against her chest, refusing to answer.

"Max is my son, Nikita," Michael continued, "I had no choice –!"

"You _always_ had a choice, Michael!" Nikita spat, turning back to look at him. Stinging tears were starting to build up again but she angrily blinked them back. The next words tumbled out of her mouth before she had any chance to think about it, "You were just too _righteous_ and too _noble_ enough to make it."

An indignant sigh left Michael's lips. He shook his head lightly in disbelief. Nikita's last words shot down whatever retort he had. So for a few silent moments, he just gazed at her with those piercing green eyes. Softly, he finally asked her, "How could you do this, Nikita?"

The painful memory of seeing Michael kiss Cassandra burned in Nikita's mind. Her anger rose higher. She clenched her fists tighter. Hypocrite. She hissed, "I could ask you the same thing."

Michael's eyebrows furrowed for a second. "What?"

"Like you don't know." She sneered at him.

Silence enveloped them again.

A few seconds after, Michael went for a different approach, asking, "How could you do this to her, to Ilya?"

"No." Nikita shook her head. Her brown eyes glinted with a flurry of emotions. "You don't get to say that, Michael. You don't get to say those things about Ilya because up to a few hours ago, you _didn't even know she existed_!"

"And whose fault was that?"

"Don't talk about something you know _nothing_ about!"

Michael and Nikita stared hard at each other, neither one backing down.

Years of knowing each other have taught them how to deal with tense moments like these. And one of the things they've learned was that sometimes when arguments were getting out of hand, the best way to handle it was to… just not to.

Even when the smoldering tension in the air suffocated every gaps of silence, they did nothing but stare.

Raising their voices at each other would get them nowhere. Except, probably bruises in the morning.

Nikita couldn't deny that she knew where Michael was coming from. He was Ilya's father and he had every right to know about his daughter. She knew she should've told him about her. She also knew how he would react. But she thought that is was the best thing to do. Even Alex and the others have advised her about it ever since. But Nikita was just too upset and mad that she didn't want to listen to any of them.

Though now, seeing Michael standing before her, asking about their daughter, angry at what she had done, angry at her… it was just _too real_.

All the justifications and rationalizations she did regarding her actions just seemed to fizzle right before her eyes.

In that second, just like that, after all the years of not thinking about it and repressing it to the back of her mind, the gravity of what Nikita had done finally caught up with her. It made her see the bigger picture than the one she had deluded herself in.

And it was worse than what she had convinced herself to believe.

Nikita looked away as she felt her chest tighten.

_What had she done_?

Her lower lip trembled.

She denied Michael the chance to be there when his daughter was born…

To carry Ilya in his arms for the first time…

To hear Ilya say her first word…

To see Ilya take her first step…

To be there for her to pick her up every time she fell…

Every precious memory Nikita held about their daughter, it was a robbed chance from Michael too.

And she prevented her daughter from knowing her father.

What kind of a mother was she?

_A failure_.

She had always seemed to fail everyone who meant everything to her.

She was never cut out for this.

She had never been mother material.

She couldn't do this anymore.

The first of many tears finally trickled down her mocha cheek.

"I'm s-sorry," Nikita stammered. She shut her eyes tightly and buried her face in her hands, ashamed. Her soft sobs shook her thin shoulders. "It was so selfish…"

Nikita's knees buckled, submitting to her repressed emotional turmoil. But Michael managed to catch her before she hit the ground. After a scuffle of movements and the blur of tears, Nikita ended up sitting on the wooden floor and in between Michael's legs. She didn't bother to push away from him anymore because she was sobbing on his chest with his arms holding her tight.

Ironically enough, she was so mad… at him, and at herself mostly… but in Michael's arms, she had never felt so safe in the longest time.

"You have _no idea _what I've been through, Michael," Nikita cried, while irately yet weakly pounding on his chest with her fist. He just silently held her close and didn't let go as her tears continued flowing and her hiccups were getting more frequent. She confessed, "I was so hurt and angry… I didn't tell you because I was so scared… So scared that I'd lose her the same way I did you… And I couldn't have that… Not when I finally had a family…"

It had been so long since she had allowed herself to be like this: curled up like a ball, crying her eyes and heart out, exposed with all of her walls and guards down…

"Shh…" Michael said, softly. Leaning against a wooden post, he pulled Nikita closer and just let her cry into him. He smoothed a hand through her dark hair and pushed away the ones that were sticking to her face. "Calm down."

She shook her head, burying her face into Michael's neck. She finally stopped beating his chest and settled on to grasping fistfuls of his shirt. "I'm sorry, Michael… I was wrong… I don't know what to do… what to say… to make it up to you…"

"I don't blame you," Michael told her, tightening his hold on Nikita and kissing her temple. He blinked back pent-up tears as he whispered to her, "And I'm sorry too. But it's going to be okay… I promise."

Nikita chewed on her lower lip. Her cries had quieted down to occasional hiccups but the tears still continued to flow. She sniffed. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I'm not." Michael pulled Nikita slightly away from him to look into her glistening brown eyes, and told her in a strained voice, "And I'm not losing you again."

Hearing those words, Nikita wouldn't lie; those words made her feel better.

But hearing those words and actually seeing them in action were two different things.

For now though, she was content of having Michael right there with her, wiping the tears that rolled down her face.

Circling her arms around his neck, Nikita just held onto Michael and buried her face into his shoulder. She still couldn't believe that he was actually there, even when she could feel his arms around her and his warm breath ghosting her neck. She closed her eyes and relished the moment.

She had missed him so much.

After some time, Nikita had calmed down as she had cried out every tear she had been holding on to for the past years. She felt lighter, like a huge weight was lifted off from her shoulders. And she had Michael to thank for that.

Pulling away from the embrace, Nikita cupped the side of Michael's cheek and looked at him. A slight frown passed her features as she saw his clouded yet somewhat curious eyes, so she prompted, "There's something bothering you. Just say it."

Michael was hesitantly silent at first. Letting out a resigned sigh, he finally asked, "What does Ilya know about me – or does she even know she has a father?"

"She asked about you once. Told her you were overseas dealing with your business." Nikita gave a rather sad smirk, "The best lies have the most truth, right? She never asked after that."

"That's it? She never wondered why she hasn't received any phone calls from me to check up on her? Or received any presents during her birthday and Christmas?"

Nikita shrugged lightly. "Like I said, Birkhoff, Owen, and Alex are good to her – too good even. You'll see what I mean on her birthday. They spoil her too much. But Ilya is happy with them."

"But she never asked when I'd be back?" Michael pressed.

"Something you should know, Michael, even for a four-year-old, Ilya has a knack of knowing what questions not to ask…" A soft smile tugged on the corner of Nikita's lips, "Probably got that from you."

Michael briefly let out his signature smirk. He held Nikita's hand that was on his cheek and turned his face to kiss her palm. Leaning his forehead against hers, he said, "We _will _make this work, Nikita."

Her heart fluttered. There was nothing more in this world she'd ever want than to have her family complete.

They can do this. She could feel it. Maybe she can have her fairytale dream after all…

"Cassandra would love to hear about you and Ilya."

Or maybe not.

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><p><strong>Well, wasn't that a rollercoaster. Oh, the drama.<strong>

**Honestly, I really don't know if this chapter stayed true to character. Did it? :)**

**So… Reviews everybody! Not only are they lovely, encouraging, and entertaining to read, but they're also tons of help.**

**Okay, here's some additional facts about Liane/Ilya's name! (Sorry, I just want to share. Haha!)**

**- As you've read above, her name is taken from letters composing the names of Elizabeth, Haley, and Daniel. In that order, you'll see Liane in **e**(LI)**zabeth**, **h**(A)**ley**, **da**(N)**i**(E)**l.** And for Ilya in **el**(I)**zabeth**, **ha**(L)**e**(Y), **d**(A)**niel**… Get it?**

**- Liane and Ilya really do mean 'light'. Or so according to the baby names book that I've taken it from. Funny thing though, when I searched the net, different meanings came up for each. But we'll just go with the book's definitions.**

**- Lastly, Liane is also made up of letters taken from Michael and Nikita's names! (Though I only realized that yesterday. Hahaha!)**

**And that's it. I've been gushing to share that. Haha. And I'll shut up now.**

**So, once again, thank you so much for taking time to read. And to my Reviewers, I just want to hug you. :)**

**Till next time! Oh, and keep voting for Nikita on E! Online's Save One Show! This show deserves a Season 3!**

**xx Dani**


	6. Chapter 5: Dysfunctional

**Heyyy! How is everyone?**

**As always, I want to take this chance to thank everyone who's been following this story. For the alerts, favorites, reviews… oh my. All of you are just awesome! Thank you so much! You have no idea how much it means to me. :)**

**Okay, so for this chapter, it's gonna be a bit lighter. A break. A breather. A filler. Or whatever else you want to call it. After all the tension and the drama in the previous chapters, something lighthearted should be needed. And hopefully, still entertaining.**

**So, here you go with the next update! Enjoy!**

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><p><span>Chapter 5: Dysfunctional<span>

"_As much as I love hosting couple's therapy…_" – 2x02

Sleep avoided Nikita again that night.

If this was going to keep up, she may start taking sleeping pills very soon. But she's hoping it won't come to that.

Getting bored with just lying in bed for hours, Nikita got up and got dressed for an early morning run. She figured that she might as well get fit and be productive if she couldn't sleep.

Padding through the house as quietly as she could, Nikita decided to make a minor detour and slipped in to Ilya's room to check in on her. She almost laughed, seeing that her daughter was splayed all over her bed sleeping peacefully even though her blanket had almost slid down to the floor. Ilya had always been a twisty sleeper.

Which also got her the moniker Little Twister, as Alex fondly called it.

Sleepyhead, Shorty, Twister, and all the other pet names… it's a miracle that Ilya still knew what her real name was.

After re-tucking the pink-and-green quilt, Nikita planted a light kiss on the young child's head and left the room.

On her way to the stairs, she tried not to listen or look at the newly-occupied guestroom as she passed. She didn't want to deal with that right now. She needed to relax.

It was still dark by the time Nikita got outside but the beginning of a sunrise was already evident in the horizon. The dark blue ocean was calm, lapping lazily next to the fine, white sand. The soft calls of early morning wild birds echoed in the distance.

Sprinting along the shoreline of the beach, Nikita breathed in the cool, salty breeze to ease her troubled mind. God knows, she needed that so much after her talk with Michael last night.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Truth be told, she really was happy that Michael was back, that he wanted to step up and be the father he had never been to their daughter.

But a question lingered in her mind… what about the two of them?

Though he said they would make things work, Nikita doubted if they ever could.

Last night, when Michael was calling Cassandra on his phone, Nikita got up and left, not wanting to hear their conversation. She sadly remembered the reason why she left all those years ago without telling him in the first place.

Though Michael didn't really admit that they were together and even acted confused when she told him off for being a hypocrite, Nikita knew that it was bound to happen. That kiss was her proof. Someone couldn't live with a person as beautiful as Cassandra for all those years without something happening. Especially when they already had a past, and a child, together.

There was no point loving a man who probably had feelings for someone else. Even if it was Michael.

It was a gnawing ache in Nikita's chest knowing that there was probably no hope for the two of them. Division, Daniel, and now Cassandra… There was always something or someone that got in between their relationship. Maybe she and Michael were just not meant to be.

Maybe.

But for the sake of their daughter, Nikita would just have to bear with it and move on. She didn't know what else she could do.

For now though, all she _could_ do was run. And she didn't stop until the first rays of the sunrise appeared in the skyline.

It was time to go home and face what would yet become another complex day.

Kicking off the sand from her shoes, she slowly jogged up the stone steps that would lead her back to the house. Entering through the back door, Nikita was suddenly greeted by a delicious, mouthwatering smell. Peering into the dining room as she walked in, she smiled when she saw a plate of steaming tofu scramble set in the middle of the dining table. Like some sort of offering.

Nikita curiously stared at the food for a few moments and then called out, "Owen?"

"Oh good, you're back." His head popped up comically behind the kitchen counter, "Just in time."

"It's six in the morning, what are you doing up cooking?" Nikita asked, taking a seat and pulling the plate towards her. The aroma of the tarragon and saffron were so heavenly that it made her lightheaded. She chuckled. "What happened, Alex kicked you out of bed?"

"Very funny," Owen gibed, straightening up and pulling off the apron he was wearing. He sat across from Nikita and offered her a fork, "_Bon appétit_."

Taking in a bite, Nikita shivered in delight. She let out a laugh. "I swear, this is _so yum_."

"Okay, I just gotta ask," he said, watching her in awe and amazement. "Haven't you had enough tofu scramble back when you were pregnant?"

"Umm…" She thought aloud. "No. If I still had a reason that could force you to make this everyday, I would."

"Yeah," Owen chuckled. "Bet you would, bossy as you are."

"Hey, I was pregnant! I had cravings."

"And you were bossy as hell. Like, more than you usually are."

"Shut up." Nikita rolled her eyes.

"It's true." Owen said, picking some unseen lint from the table. He looked back to her with an amused expression on his face. "Though I think that was just Ilya. Do you know that she's starting to become Little Miss Bossy herself?"

"No, she's not. You just definitely have some serious problems with authority, Owen." She laughed. It felt so good to have some humor so early in the morning. Pointing the tines of her fork to him, she said, "And don't even think of adding to Ilya's nicknames."

Owen replied with a smirk.

After swallowing another forkful of the delicious dish, Nikita tilted her head to the side and asked, "So what's the occasion? You don't usually wake up this early just to cook."

"Does there have to be one?"

Nikita raised an eyebrow at him. "In case you haven't noticed, no one in this house is a morning person."

Owen chuckled and leaned back against his seat, clasping his hands behind his head. He told her, "Says the person who was up way earlier, jogging by the beach?"

She smirked. "You guys heard me leave my room, huh?"

"We're all spies, aren't we?"

Shrugging, Nikita confessed, "Couldn't sleep."

"I know."

She slightly narrowed her eyes. "Know?"

"Okay, fine," Owen unlocked his hands and held them out, palms towards Nikita in a surrendering fashion, "Alex told me you were having sleeping problems. And when she heard you leave earlier, she, well... did sort of kick me out of bed and told me to make you something. After yesterday, she's worried about you. We all are."

"Thanks." Nikita let out a gentle smile as she looked down at her plate. She's so lucky to have such great friends who looked out for her. It made her heart expand in appreciation. Pushing around the remnants of the tofu with her fork, she said, "But I'm fine."

"That's what you always say," Owen griped. Placing his elbows on the table, he rested his chin on top of his interlocked fingers. He eyed her closely with his bright eyes as she ate the remaining tofu in silence.

"Stop staring, Owen."

He chuckled. Then commented, "You know, your scrawnier, scruffier other half can be quite a jerk."

Nikita snorted, glancing up to him. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. There you two were having your moment and then he mentions Cassandra?" He remarked innocently. "I mean, who does that?"

"Apparently Michael – wait." Nikita paused. Her eyebrows knitted as she tried to comprehend, "How'd you–? _No_."

Owen shrugged. "Wasn't me."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Who?"

"Your little computer guy bugged your boy before he went to talk to you."

Nikita's fork fell on the table in a muffled thud.

"And all of you were listening _the whole time_?" Nikita asked, mortified. Slapping both her hands firmly on the table, she stood up suddenly, scraping the wooden legs of her chair against the dining room tiles. She exclaimed, an infuriated tone coloring her voice, "What the hell – _have you people ever heard of privacy_?"

"Oh, come on, Nikita, calm down." Owen laughed, staring at the woman, unaffected by her anger. "You know we're all kinda dysfunctional at best."

Covering her face with one hand, Nikita could feel her cheeks go warm as she dropped back to her seat. She couldn't even wrap her head around what she had just heard. Crawling back to her room and never showing her face for the day seemed like a good idea right now. Glancing up at the ceiling, she whispered, "Oh my God… I can't believe this."

"Want more tofu scramble?" Owen offered, trying to appease her.

"Hell no."

The next few minutes were spent in silence. Nikita refused to talk or even look at Owen as he tried to start a conversation. She didn't know if she was so angry or so humiliated at the moment. Because if there was one thing Nikita didn't know how to handle well, it was embarrassment.

Oh, Birkhoff was definitely going to pay.

Still trying to get her attention, Owen scrunched up his nose and playfully teased, "Who knew you could cry like a girl?"

"Owen," Nikita warned, finally looked at him. Her dark eyes flashing threateningly, "if you want to be conscious for the next twenty-four hours, shut up."

I I

"_Super dedicated. Super focused. Annoying as hell._" – 2x07

I I

Around midmorning, Nikita was found in the living room stooping over a laptop. She kept glancing at the watch as her nimble fingers skimmed rapidly over the keys, completely engrossed in configuring a program. There was only a very small window of opportunity for her to do this. So if she wanted this to work, her timing had to be perfect.

"Nikita?"

Gasping in surprise, she quickly closed the lid of the laptop and turned around, facing a curious-looking Michael. Seeing it was only him, Nikita relaxed and returned to her former task. Her determination temporarily overpowered her slight awkwardness and shyness in being alone with Michael in the same room. She was silently thankful that the soft tapping of the keyboard drowned out the silence.

"What are you doing?" Michael finally asked after a few moments of watching her.

"Getting even," she uttered softly, distracted.

"Okay then," he raised an eyebrow, amused. Crossing his arms against his chest, he questioned, "Where is Ilya?"

"Hiding."

"What?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Nikita saw Birkhoff amble into the room, mumbling something to himself. He was looking at the computer tablet he was holding so he didn't really notice that she was watching him. _Perfect_, she thought, _just in time_. Pressing the Enter button, she closed the window from the laptop screen to hide what she had just did.

Straightening up, she called out sweetly, "Hey, Nerd."

"What?" Birkhoff said, not once glancing up.

Putting her hands on her hips and balancing her weight on one foot, she tut-tutted. "You know, I think it's technically called 'cheating' to activate a person's trackers while playing Hide-And-Seek."

"Not my fault your kid's got some wicked spy genes."

"She's –"

"Wait a second," Michael interrupted, "Ilya has a tracker?"

"Tracker_s, _dude. With an _S_," Birkhoff corrected, walking towards them. He looked up from his tablet to Michael and said, "Shorty's got more trackers than she can count."

Michael looked sideways to Nikita for confirmation. She gave a wry, sheepish smile and shrugged. "I had a microdot tracker implanted on her when she was born. And the earrings she's always wearing – Alex and Owen gave her that –"

"It's amazing that they're not just screw-locked, hypoallergenic pieces of gold jewelry, ya'know." Birkhoff muttered.

"And Nerd, here," Nikita continued, a small smirk creeping on her rose lips, "went on some kind of frenzy a few weeks back and decided to tag every piece of clothing Ilya had."

Michael's eyebrows went way up. He blinked in disbelief. "Does she really need to have that many?"

"Mikey," Birkhoff said, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder, "sorry to say, but you don't know your kid. And with this game, I am not gonna spend half of my morning combing through an acre of land searching for someone who could be hiding anywhere from a cupboard, to under one of the beds. Like last time. Learned my lesson –," the sound of his tablet beeping cut him off. He tapped a few keys on the tablet and then exclaimed, "Ha! Gotcha!"

Without another word to any of them, Birkhoff turned around and disappeared to an unknown part of the house.

Michael glanced at his friend's retreating form then looked at Nikita, confusion written all over his face. He asked her, "What just happened?"

Nikita stared at the place where Birkhoff had disappeared. She smiled as she explained, "Around three weeks ago, Birkhoff and I made a bet that every Tuesday he and Ilya were gonna play this grand hide-and-seek game. If Nerd manages to find Ilya within an hour, I have to shut up with my comments on the kind of food he wants to eat for a week. But if Ilya manages to stay hidden and not get caught, Nerd has to take her to anywhere she wants using the jet. And he also has to buy her anything she wishes."

"Okay," Michael mused, looking like he didn't know whether to be amazed or appalled at the idea. "That's a bit –"

"Over-the-top?" Nikita offered. She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah. But surprisingly, they both agreed to it. It's a win-win situation actually. I get Birkhoff out of his computer chair to do some physical activity for an hour, and Ilya gets to enjoy her Tuesday mornings. Either way, I still win."

Amusement fully took over Michael's expression. "I don't recall Birkhoff being so open towards the use of his jet."

"Michael," Nikita said, glancing up to him, "another thing you should know is you just can't say 'no' to Ilya. She has this… _charm_ that has everyone wrapped around her tiny fingers."

Michael smirked. "Wonder who she got that from."

She chuckled lightly. "Besides, everything has been fair 'til now. Ilya hasn't won. At least, not yet."

Taking in her words, Michael chuckled. He closely eyed the woman standing next to him. "Okay, what did you do?"

"Me?" Her doe-eyes widened. She asked innocently, "What makes you think I did something?"

She stared up challengingly to him for a few moments.

"Because I know you, Nikita." He finally said, stepping in front of her and looked into her eyes. A familiar smirk tugged on his lips. "And you have that look."

"Fine. Busted," Nikita laughed, trying to hide her sudden nervousness at his closeness. Looking away shyly, she confessed. "I rerouted all of Ilya's trackers. By the time Birkhoff realizes he's been played, it'll be too late."

"You really want Ilya to win, huh?"

Nikita glanced at Michael, the vengeful yet mischievous glint now visibly obvious in her eyes. "Just giving Birkhoff a taste of his own medicine. He's gonna learn that payback's a bitch. And expensive."

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><p><strong>Well, that's it for now!<strong>

**It wasn't really **_**that **_**funny but at least, it was a bit lighthearted, right?**

**And okay, so in this story, there is a hint of an Olex pairing. I really love Salex, especially after Dead Drop (btw, how awesome was that episode? And a stoned and loopy Sean was just hilarious!). But it's just… I've originally been an Olex fan for some reason. And since this story takes off right after 2x08, it was kinda hard to incorporate Sean in here. So, I had to go with Owen because it was much easier. Haha.**

**Anyway, like it or hate it? Let me know in the Reviews, lovelies!**

**Only 2 more episodes left for the season! Oh my God.**

**Oh, oh! To give you all something to look forward to what's in the next chappie, here's some teasers: Cassandra comes in, and Nikita further realizes the consequences of her rash and impulsive decisions.**

**Hee hee! ;)**

**xx Dani**


	7. Chapter 6: Jealousy

**Hey everyone!**

**Terribly, terribly sorry for the late update! Tons of things happened and, ugh… you do not need to hear those things. ;)**

**Anyway, you all probably want to read now so I'll save my A/N for later. Scroll down!**

**Oh, and thank you THANK YOU to all my faithful readers out there! And for my reviewers, a Mikita kiss for you all. I could just hug you guys to death.**

**Okay, shutting up now! Read and enjoy!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 6: Jealousy<span>

"_You said you needed my help._" – 2x03

"Holy sh–"

"No swearing."

"–_aaah_! That _stings_!"

"Not my fault you walked into the nettles."

"Oh yeah? Gee, I wonder who _rerouted_ the trackers that led me there." Birkhoff spat, sarcastically. He flinched as Nikita pulled tightly on the elastic bandage she was wrapping on his slightly swollen and itchy arm. "Hey! _Ow_! _Victim _here!"

Nikita's lips twisted into a smug smile. After securing the bandage with a metal clip, she lightly tapped her friend's cheek and told him, "Karma, Nerd."

He mumbled an inaudible curse as she sauntered away.

Returning back to the sofa, Nikita smiled when she saw that her spot next to Michael was taken over by her daughter. Ilya was seated comfortably, happily nibbling on a Red Vine while pulling on a stray thread on the hem of her father's sleeve while Michael was watching her with amusement. Claiming the seat on the other end of the sofa, Nikita grabbed her mug of coffee from the table and settled in. She gave a sideward glance. Ilya was sandwiched between her and Michael. It made her unavoidably admire how this looked a lot like a family portrait scene.

She glimpsed at Michael and met his gaze for a moment.

The slight gleam in his eyes made her know that he was thinking along those same lines.

"So, Ilya, since you won," Michael said, looking down at her. He was clearly enjoying his daughter's fascination on something so trivial. "Where do you want to go?"

She stared up to him with bright eyes and brought out her dimple with a smile. "London!"

Nikita choked on the coffee she had been sipping. Birkhoff and Michael raised their gaze at her but she avoided them by setting her cup back on the table and staring at the young girl instead. She couldn't help it – she got uncomfortably surprised. The place held memories and people that she'd rather not think about. And Ilya never mentioned anything about wanting to go to London, or anywhere in Europe, before. So with Michael's sudden appearance, and her daughter saying she wanted to go that place, it was enough to catch Nikita off guard.

And that caused her to feel like her heart was being gripped and pricked by pins and needles.

"Of all places…" Birkhoff muttered, scratching his bandaged arm. He asked, "Why London, Shorty?"

The 4-year-old frowned at the mention of the nickname. She glared at Birkhoff with steely emerald eyes for a moment and then stuck her tongue out at him.

Birkhoff laughed, affronting the young child even more. Michael and Nikita couldn't help but proudly watch their daughter.

Oh, she definitely was something.

"Ilya?" Nikita asked, getting her attention.

Looking up to her mother, Ilya suddenly grinned and announced, "Because I want to visit the Queen!"

A smile forced its way onto Nikita's lips. Relief washed over her, realizing that her daughter's reason to going to London had nothing to do with… her. And then Nikita remembered that Ilya didn't know anything about her mother's issues and she almost laughed. She definitely had to keep her mind from blowing things out of proportion.

Amused, she asked her daughter, "The Queen, pumpkin?"

"Mm-hmm." Ilya nodded. "And then I'll ask her to make me a princess!"

They all chuckled. Apparently what Alex had dubbed the 'Princess Phase' had already caught on to the 4-year-old.

As most kids, Ilya had developed a certain new habit. And hers was following or wanting things after she watched them from television. Just a couple of weeks ago, she wanted to be a mermaid after watching The Little Mermaid. The whole household had to put up with her dragging them to the beach all day. At one morning even, Nikita and Alex got a bit sunburned after staying in the sun too long, looking after the young girl.

Not wanting a repeat of any similar incidents in the future, everyone had made it a point to screen whatever TV show or movie the young child would be watching. They all agreed that God forbid if Ilya found her way through pulp or sci-fi shows with the habit she was in right now.

And thankfully, it seems it didn't take long for her to switch from wanting to be a mermaid to becoming a princess. It was less of a hassle.

Looking over Ilya's head, Michael gave Nikita a bemused, questioning glance.

She explained by mouthing the word, 'Anastasia'.

He smiled and rolled his eyes in amusement.

Though thinking about it, Nikita didn't know how her daughter thought of the British monarchy when the movie was supposed to be that of the Russian's... Where the hell was her daughter getting all these information?

"But aren't you already Mommy's princess?" Michael asked the little girl.

Nikita glanced at him. She was grateful that he had agreed to not telling their daughter about his real relation to her yet. They mutually decided that they'll wait for the right time before setting her straight. For now though, all Michael had to do was bond with Ilya and gain her trust – though that didn't seem to be a problematic one.

"But I don't have a crown." Ilya pouted, solemnly looking at her father. "Princesses have crowns... And they have castles."

"Oh, I think the castle can be arranged." Nikita said. She sat back on the sofa, crossed her arms across her chest and looked pointedly at Birkhoff.

He stared back at her blankly at first. Realizing and comprehending what her look meant, Birkhoff's face contorted into a horrified expression. He leaned forward in his chair, enunciating every word of his reply, "Uh, no. No way. N to the O – no."

"Not your call, Nerd." Nikita reminded him smugly. Her lips pulled back into a taunting smile. "Ilya won."

Birkhoff made a face. "I'm _not _buying a castle!"

"Rules of the game, remember? If Ilya wants it, she gets it."

They stared at one another.

"Crap."

Knowing it was his time to scram before his friend thought of any more ridiculous idea to deplete his bank account, Birkhoff grabbed his sunglasses, computer tablet, and cellphone from the coffee table and fled the living room. A few seconds later, his voice saying, 'I'm going out!' echoed around the house just before the front door slammed. There was a sudden purr of a revved up engine by the driveway outside and the squealing of tires as the car accelerated on the road.

Nikita laughed at her friend. He can never tell when she was joking.

When Ilya leaned on her mother's side, Nikita wrapped an arm around her. She looked at her daughter, then to Michael, and smiled. It was one of those moments she had always dreamed of. The three of them complete… Happy.

Her heart gave a slight squeeze.

Okay, at least the two of them were. Nikita was… well, not completely there yet.

But she'll have to make do with that.

Silently, she and Michael contented themselves to watching their daughter play with a small kaleidoscope she had found inserted in between the seats. Nikita ruffled her daughter's hair and kissed the top of her head. She was just too adorable for words.

But when Ilya suddenly left and ran off for the kitchen to get another Red Vine, Nikita felt a bit uneasy. And lost, with her arm wrapped around nothing but air. She immediately felt this awkward mood that filled the space left between her and Michael. She glanced at him through the corner of her eye and saw that he was just as somehow relaxed as ever.

Maybe this was just all in her head.

Still, Nikita shifted uncomfortably on her side of the sofa. She could feel her heart rhythmically thudding in her ears. Being alone with Michael after last night, and knowing that her friends had listened in on their conversation, it just unsettled her. And with all her focus earlier gone, the feelings she had been suppressing at that time had crept back up and sort of made things a bit awkward. _Again_.

Trying to keep calm, Nikita fiddled her thumbs and focused on them as if they were the most entertaining thing in the world.

She wished that Ilya would hurry up and come back already.

Then, just about as Nikita almost had it with the silence, Michael had reached over and his warm hand covered hers, squeezing lightly, reassuringly.

Her heart did a little back flip. The little traitor. Nikita looked up at him and gave a small smile. But other than that, she didn't know how else to respond.

"Nikita," Michael said, almost hesitantly, "what's wrong?"

"I don't know," she admitted, staring at their conjoined hands. It was so warm and so familiar.

"Well, what –"

The ringing of her cellphone made Nikita jerk in surprise. Her heart may have just skipped a couple of beats right then.

That was so uncommon and so unlike her.

But nonetheless, Nikita thought it was a welcomed interruption.

Pulling her hands away from Michael's grasp, she reached into her back pocket to get her phone.

She looked down at the screen.

_Unknown Number_.

A slight frown passed her features. This was strikingly unusual. No one from outside should be able to contact anyone inside the house because of the call barrier Birkhoff had placed over the area. Only registered numbers were allowed to make outgoing and receive incoming calls freely. It was for their safety. Other numbers should have pinged an alert in Shadownet and made an automatic trace of the caller.

But no such thing happened.

Color Nikita intrigued.

"Hello?" she answered, uncertain but curious.

"_Nikita_."

She stopped short, unconsciously catching her breath.

She'd know that heavily Belarusian-accented voice from anywhere.

Cassandra Ovechkin.

Well, this was unexpected.

"_Is Michael with you_?"

Nikita blinked, getting over her astonishment. She glanced at Michael. He was watching her curiously. She felt a pang of fury. Her lips mashed into a thin line. Why the hell was Cassandra calling her if she was only asking for Michael? Couldn't she directly call _him_ instead? She wasn't an operator, for God's sake.

Her mocha cheek flinched. She replied a terse, "Yes."

When she was about to rip her cellphone away from her ear to give it to Michael, Cassandra's voice filtered in, "_Can you go somewhere private, please_?"

Nikita narrowed her gaze onto the floor. "Excuse me?"

"_I need to talk to _you_._"

Thrown off by Cassandra's request, Nikita froze. She _needed_ to _talk _to _her_?Was this some sort of joke?

Still on the edge on what she would do, Nikita remained seated on the sofa and stared intently at a single spot on her knee. She didn't have to listen to her. She didn't like to. She didn't want to.

"_Nikita_?"

Giving Michael an undeserved glare, Nikita got up and left the room in a huff. She realized that this unwarranted call would be uncomfortable enough and she didn't need to have Michael listen in on one side of it. He might hear something that would just further estrange their already-strained relationship. Nikita chewed on her lower lip. She had never been so annoyed of a person before.

When she was out in the patio, she said, "Okay, Cassandra, talk."

"_I assume Michael arrived safely_? _He never called since his plane touched down at the airport. And I can't seem to contact him._"

Nikita looked up at the horizon, her ire disappearing for the moment. Something didn't seem to add up. Her eyebrows knit in confusion. Last night, she distinctly remembered that Michael was trying to call Cassandra –

Michael was _trying _to call her. Nikita had already left earlier and just assumed that he had managed to talk to Cassandra.

But she didn't know that he never got through.

Nikita glanced at the missing car in the driveway.

And then it clicked.

Oh.

_Birkhoff_.

He must have redirected or blocked all of Michael's incoming and outgoing calls. It was the only plausible explanation.

But… why?

She took a deep breath. _Right_.

Nikita had known that her friend was almost as angry, hurt, and offended as she was when Michael chose Cassandra and Max over them. Birkhoff didn't really say it to her but she knew from how he acted. He said all these justifications and reassurances, but it was more for his sake than hers. As time passed though, Birkhoff managed to somehow get over it (far better than she ever did) and he promised that he'd kick Michael's ass when he got to see him again. Nikita laughed at that one because she already knew then that it was just all words.

'Til now, that is. She never expected her Nerd to actually pull through with some kind of revenge plan (even though it was arguably in a small-scale, petty way).

Closing her eyes, Nikita smiled and shook her head in disbelief at Birkhoff's surprising, underhanded slyness.

But Cassandra must have been worried, a guilty thought surfaced. Nikita's eyes fluttered open.

Well, at least now she knew that the woman looked out for Michael. After everything, Nikita inadvertently found that she couldn't hate Cassandra for that. If she really cared for Michael, then she could accept that. If Michael was happy with Cassandra, then maybe she could accept that too. It may take a while, or maybe never, to get used to seeing him in the arms of another woman but if it is what it takes… then so be it.

Everyone keeps on telling her that she is such a martyr, sacrificing a lot for the sake of others and the greater good. That she's some sort of saint. Or some doomed superhero.

But she was far from perfect. No one just sees the other side of her. The incredibly jealous, insecure, and selfish side of Nikita. And she didn't care if it was wrong. She was a person who wanted things too. Who deserved it after everything she's done.

Her precarious feelings only intensified when it came to Michael and their current situation.

She knew she couldn't stand in the way. It was just so hard to let go.

But she had to. Her selfishness couldn't stop the fact that Michael deserved happiness in his life too.

Even if it is meant to be in the expense of her own.

Accepting her fate, Nikita's antagonism slowly fell away. Or at least, not all of it.

She still didn't like Cassandra.

"He's here." She answered abruptly. Frowning slightly as she remembered something else, Nikita questioned, "How did you get my number anyway?"

There was some slight static. "_Your friend, a one Seymour Birkhoff, called and gave it to me._"

Nikita's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "_Birkhoff_ called you?"

"_Yes. About an hour ago actually. He was vehemently berating a lot of things too._"

Nikita stared into the distance. None of this was making sense. An hour ago Birkhoff was still playing Hide-And-Seek with Ilya. So unless he was calling Cassandra during the time he was supposed to be playing the game… It was odd. Why would Birkhoff call her? He wasn't the type to talk to people he didn't know. Her curiosity getting the better of her hostility, Nikita asked, "About _what_?"

"_Something about 'Bonnie and Clyde', and 'three's company', and 'meant to be' and some other things that I lost track of..._" Cassandra trailed off. Her light voice filtered into the earpiece a moment later,_ "But I deduced that it seems I have some explaining to do_."

Nikita sat down on one of the lounge chairs. Her knees suddenly felt weak as she had a feeling on where this was going. She repeated, "Explaining?"

"_About me and Michael_."

"Oh no," Nikita whispered. She clapped a hand to her mouth, confirming her suspicions on what her friend must have said to the former Belarusian first lady. This was definitely crossing the line. First, listening in on her and Michael's talk last night, and now interfering with this too? Birkhoff had definitely become too nosy for his own good. Enough was enough. She quickly backpedalled, "No, don't listen to Birkhoff, Cassandra. It's not any of our business –"

"_Nikita_," Cassandra said, her voice soft and gentle, "_there's nothing going on between me and him_."

She blinked.

"And why should I believe you?" Nikita suddenly snapped. Her quick temper made the words tumble out of her mouth before her mind had time to process it. She regretted her brashness almost instantly, but she was sick and tired with the lies. She didn't need it. Most of her life had already been composed of lies and she didn't want to add more to it. She needed the truth this time.

Even if it just might break her.

Cassandra was silent. After a few moments, there was a slight scuffle in the background. "_Because you want to_."

"What I want is different from what is happening." Nikita pointed out, her voice firm and brusque.

"_But I won't lie to you, Nikita. Not about this, not about Michael_."

"With all due respect, Cassandra, but you've already lied before."

"_Circumstances were different last time_."

"So you expect me to believe you just like that?" Her free hand clenched into a fist. Nikita said, "That nothing happened?"

"_Yes. Nikita, your friend,_" Cassandra hesitated for a moment, "_he told me the reason why you left... What you saw._"

Nikita tightened her grip on her cellphone. That fateful image of Michael and Cassandra seared through her mind. Dormant jealousy flared up. Her anger also rose, feeling slighted and betrayed that Birkhoff chose to share that information with Cassandra.

"_I'm afraid you've misunderstood, Nikita. That kiss… It was for a mission._"

Nikita felt like her heart had sunk. She couldn't help but blurt out, "What?"

Cassandra's voice seemed a bit distant as she commented, "_I must say, you Americans certainly have a peculiar way of avoiding arousing suspicion._"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Nikita demanded through gritted teeth.

"_Nikita, I work for MI6 remember? What you saw…_" She said, "_At that time, I was on a reconnaissance mission. It was my first field work after Belarus so Michael insisted that he went with me to be an extra set of eyes. I discouraged him but I think you know how stubborn he can be."_

_"But,"_ she sighed before continuing, _"it turned out that I was lucky that he was there because I got sort of overzealous. Michael saw the suspicion and the threat before I did. What he did – his… _unconventional_ tactic saved both our lives."_

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><p><strong>Aaaand that's it for now!<strong>

**Honestly, this chapter was sort of a disappointment for me (but a HUMONGOUS THANK YOU to all those who keep on PMing me for the encouragement - I'll make it up to you guys!). It's just that this didn't turn out as I expected. It was, well... just different from what I had in my head. And then I think I busted in Nikita's characterization here... :(**

**Okay, so now my question, does anyone see Nikita jealous and impulsive enough to do what she did (y'know, transferring and not talking to Michael for a long time after she saw him with Cassandra)?**

**I mean, _I'd _like to think so but... what do you guys think?**_  
><em>

**So, Review, okay? I need all your help on this one. :)**

**Of course, you could also comment on whatever else you like/hate/whatever.**

**And so, thank you for taking time to read and I'll try to post the next chapter soon.**

**OH! And one, no... two more things!**

**Vote for the show, Shane, Maggie or Lyndsy in the TCAs! After an amazingly epic and mindblowing season 2, THEY JUST DEFINITELY HAVE TO WIN!**

**Lastly, October is like, what, 5 more months? Anyone experiencing Nikita withdrawals this early on? ;)**

**xx Dani**


	8. Chapter 7: Acceptance

**Hey everyone!**

**Oh my God. I could not believe the number of reviews this story has gotten. A milestone. 110+ in just 7 chapters? Seriously?**

**I. Am. Speechless. and. WAY. Beyond. Elated.**

**I don't think there's even a word to describe how I feel right now. Okay, maybe there is – which is sick. Yes, I have been sick for the past week, which is also why I couldn't finish this update much sooner. But that's beside the point.**

**So to all you readers, and most especially the reviewers, ****THANK YOU SO MUCH**** for all the love you have given to this story. It means so much than you'll ever know. You have my undying gratitude.**

**I feel like crying. This fandom is just so awesome. Sigh…**

**Okay, enough blubbering now.**

**Well, anyway! This chapter! I really thought this was gonna be an easy one. Oh, was I ever wrong. Or maybe it was just the flu messing with my head. But this chapter had to be rewritten too many times. Still don't think it's the greatest, but… it's the best my fudged mind could produce. :)**

**And so… Update time, guys! Enjoy!**

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><p><span>Chapter 7: Acceptance<span>

"_There's only one thing that's worse than losing a family, it's not having one_." – 2x06

All the air in her lungs left her.

Her mind reeled.

Her heart, it felt as if it dropped down to her stomach.

Nikita stood up and walked over to the railings. A window overseeing the living room was visible from that point. Ilya was still playing with the kaleidoscope, while Michael was talking to someone in his cellphone (Birkhoff had probably already lifted the call barrier from it). She gazed at them, watching but unseeing. Her thoughts were somewhere else, lost in contemplation.

What had she done?

She couldn't believe it. All this time… She had suffered physically, emotionally, and mentally – for what?

And her daughter…

Ilya…

Nikita's blown-out-of-proportion, irrational jealousy had cost her so much.

Touching her lips with her trembling fingers, she whispered the first thing that tumbled out of her mouth, "Cassandra, I'm sor–"

"_No, don't be sorry, Nikita._" She interrupted, her voice gentle. "_I should be the one apologizing to you. I didn't know. But circumstances were deceiving and impeccably timed. I would have probably done the same."_

"But for six years," Nikita uttered, wiping an indignant tear that fell, "all the hate, the hurt, the anger… It's all for nothing."

"_Love blinds us to many things._" Cassandra stated softly. She was silent for a few moments before continuing, "_Just trust in Michael, Nikita. He is a good man who loves you very much. You should know that you're very lucky._"

Nikita didn't answer. She glanced at the sky, looking for some unknown response.

Was Cassandra right?

Should Nikita have known better?

Some silence passed through both ends. A kind of understanding between two women. It was time to gather their thoughts.

Nikita turned her back on the railings. She leaned her head on a post and let out a deep breath. Glancing out to the vast, blue ocean, she guessed she owed Cassandra some explanation. It was the least she could do.

So she told her about Ilya.

Cassandra was pleasantly surprised, having no idea about it ("_Your friend never said anything about a daughter_," she had said). But she was delighted enough to say that she was happy for her and Michael. And that she wished them the best.

During that course of the conversation, in some part of Nikita's mind, she realized that she actually hadsome unique things in common with the other woman.

Motherhood being one of them.

Being a spy was another.

Being a spy-turned-mother was even an entirely different thing altogether.

And that was just the beginning.

It was strange in any way she looked at it.

But it was true, she mulled. Life can really be unexpected at times.

Hell, she never even thought she'd ever _like_ Cassandra, much less talking into the phone with her longer than necessary (and actually enjoying it).

But that's exactly what happened. The next hour or so was spent with the two women chatting in a rather polite and amicable manner.

At some point, there was one salient point that Cassandra couldn't help but stress to Nikita:

"_Do you remember what I told you back in Belarus_?" She said, "_In our world, families are a liability. Our loved ones are our weaknesses._"

She made sure that Nikita always remembered that.

But apart from that word of advice, Cassandra also narrated what Michael was up to when he was staying with her in London. She recalled the day Michael came back after finding out they had already left the safe house, and how he literally begged her to get MI6's help to search for a location. There were a lot of strings that had to be pulled just so that she could be allowed to divert some of the agency's resources for a personal matter.

Though it also did help that the MI6 owed Michael for saving her. So they were more lenient than usual.

Cassandra chuckled lightly, she expressed that some of the recruits (because full-fledged agents were unavailable for her disposal) were enjoying the assignment and even made a bet on who could get the location first. The female recruits especially, swooned and got starry-eyed because they found the whole thing romantic.

However, she shared in a low voice, the whole thing also served as a test on how efficient their to-be agents were in locating a target. It took them 6 years so it just showed how… _sub-par_ their tracking skills were.

"_You really know how to disappear without a trace_," Cassandra commended.

She continued by saying that they only found her location when one of the recruits decided to pursue the Barbados route off the intel Michael gave on the places where they have been. It was a long shot, Michael used to say, because they were only there for a weekend. They were fortunate that the recruit was persistent.

And if Michael wasn't dedicating his time towards finding her, he would be with his son. If he wasn't with Max, Cassandra related, he would talk to her and reminisce. She recounted on how he told her about his first meeting with a recruit named Nikita, how amused he was at her bold and spitfire attitude (Nikita smiled when she heard that one), some memorable missions they went on together, how they were unstoppable partners in more ways than one, and… what he would have wanted for the two of them in the future.

"_It is a man in love_," the ex-Belarusian first lady mused.

A pang of guilt shot through Nikita, learning that Michael gone through so much because of her. And then shame as she realized on how she treated him.

She definitely had to make things better between the two of them.

Sighing, Nikita looked over her shoulder and focused her gaze on Michael and Ilya, who were still in the living room.

Oh, she really had _a lot_ of things to make up for.

"_But for what it's worth,_" Cassandra said. She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly,_ "and if it makes you feel any better, Nikita, your six years weren't put to waste. You gave Max and Michael something I could not – time. A chance for them to know each other. I don't know how I could ever repay you for that._"

Taking in her words, and sensing that Cassandra really meant it, Nikita did slightly feel better. She was right: Michael and Max did have the chance to know each other as father and son. Wasn't that what she wanted for Michael? Wasn't that why she left him in London in the first place?

Cassandra's words were Nikita's validation that, at least, she had done something right. Sure, she may have sacrificed the time for Michael to be with their own daughter, but now, he was back and he could make up for the lost occasions.

And judging by the way he was clearly captivated by Ilya, it wouldn't really take that long.

A small smile formed on Nikita's lips.

"I think you already did."

I I

"_I believe in you. And in us._" – 2x02

I I

When Nikita walked back into the house, she was surprised to see Ilya dashing towards her, laughing yet seemingly squealing at the same time. Like they haven't seen each other for months and she was so excited to see her. But instead of hurtling herself into her mother's waiting arms, the young girl ran around and hid behind Nikita's legs.

"Oh, hey! What you doin' back there?" Looking behind her, she asked Ilya. But her daughter just kept silent and buried her face deeper. Smiling, Nikita placed a hand on top of Ilya's lush brown hair and smoothed it down affectionately.

A series of deep coughs to her right caught Nikita's attention. She looked up.

Her hand flew to her mouth as she almost snorted a laugh.

Michael was leaning against the wall rubbing his eyes and coughing.

On his face were streaks of vivid pink, obviously made by a small hand.

Oh, _Ilya_.

When Michael raised his disconcerted gaze to meet Nikita's, she had to bite the insides of her cheeks just to stop smiling. She even had to hold her breath. But her shoulders gave her away as they trembled with the laugh that got stuck within her chest.

In all the years she had known him, Nikita knew that it was rare for Michael to be caught off-guard by people. Situations, yes. But people, seldom. It was because he read them so well. She only knew a selected few that could put him in that unsettling position: Percy, Amanda, and, of course… her.

So for a 4-year-old managing to do the same to him… Well, it was interesting.

And incredibly entertaining.

Ilya was definitely their daughter.

Nikita laughed inwardly.

So, she thought amusingly, Michael was finally seeing the child's mischievous side.

Though thinking about it, the little girl was definitely showing a lot of aspects of her character to Michael in such a short period of time. He was lucky, Ilya rarely did that to other people she just met. It was an indication that she was beginning to trust Michael then.

It seems that her daughter had a pretty good sense of judging character too.

"Ilya," Nikita said, her voice straining to keep her composure. She still couldn't get enough of seeing the pink on Michael's face. It was definitely a sight she would probably never see again. Taking hold of her daughter's small hand, Nikita took her closer to her father and pushed her gently forward, "say sorry."

The little girl, who was looking down on the floor, buried her hands in the pockets of her blue-and-white polka dotted dress and shook her head.

"Ilya, that was not nice," Nikita said in a disapproving tone. "What do you say when you do something wrong?"

Her voice was crisp as she replied with a sharp, "No."

"Come on, pumpkin." Nikita encouraged. "You know that's not what Mommy taught you."

"No."

"Ilya –"

"No."

"Plea–"

"No."

Oh, God.

Here they go again.

Nikita almost sighed and rolled her eyes. Almost. It took just about the last inch of her willpower not to.

She loved her daughter. She really did. But sometimes her 'no' retorts just got to Nikita (and the others too, particularly Birkhoff). Ilya can be so stubborn when she wanted to be. They all knew that it was the normal attitude for children around her age but it can really get a bit… _annoying_, to say the least. Especially in some situations.

Though from what Nikita had learned based on experience, she just had to be persistent. It's not like Ilya can honestly be as stubborn as her mother.

And she had to let the child know who's the boss.

"Liane," Nikita warned lightly.

Ilya's gaze snapped to her. She knew that when her real name was used, it usually meant business.

"Apologize."

The young girl continued to stare at her mother. Defiance still evident in her bright green eyes.

Gazing back down, Nikita patiently waited. Ilya's lower lip started to slowly jut out. The usual first tell-tale sign that the young girl was giving in. Just a few more seconds…

Ilya bowed her head to her chest for a moment. Looking up to her father, she finally conceded softly, "I'm sorry."

Michael, who was observing the mother-daughter interaction in amusement, smiled and walked over to her. Stroking Ilya's cheek with his fingers, he winked at her. "S'okay."

Her adorable pout slowly turned into a smile.

"Thank you, pumpkin," Nikita said, cupping her child's face and kissing her forehead. Kneeling down, she looked into Ilya's eyes cheerfully. They were so undeniably like Michael's. Tilting her head to the side, Nikita smirked as she remarked, "See? That wasn't so hard, right?"

The child's smile transformed into a grin, bringing out her deep-set dimple.

Nikita chuckled.

But barely a second later, a mischievous glint suddenly appeared in Ilya's emerald green eyes and out of nowhere –

_SMACK_!

Michael barked a laugh as Nikita gasped and jerked away.

At that same moment, Ilya had made a run for it.

Nikita blinked a couple of times, her vision suddenly impeded by the pink powder her daughter had slapped on to her face. It stung and prickled.

No wonder Michael got disoriented by it.

In the back of her mind, Nikita cursed Owen for giving in to buying those novelty prank items for Ilya last week.

Well, it's not like he could've said no. Or any of them, for that matter.

How could a little girl have so much influence over them?

Nikita rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand. It still stung a bit. Oh, she was definitely going to have a word with her daughter about using that thing again. When she finally managed to clear her vision however, Ilya was long gone. But her rascally giggle could still be heard as she was running up the stairs, fleeing from her crime scene.

She was fast, Nikita had to give her that.

Who would expect that a 4-year-old would manage to put one over 2 experienced and highly-trained spies?

Maybe that was what Birkhoff said about Ilya having 'spy genes'.

Standing up, Nikita spluttered the powder that entered her mouth. She took out a handkerchief (she'd been carrying one ever since she had Ilya) from her back pocket and wiped around her eyes.

"She's quite the handful," she heard Michael say.

"Yeah." She couldn't help but chuckle. Continuing to clean her face from the powder, which had turned somewhat sticky, Nikita shot back, "Wonder who she got that from?"

Michael laughed softly. Taking a step closer, Nikita almost cried out a protest when he snatched the handkerchief from her hands. But she decided against it as he took over on rubbing the gunk off her face. He said, rather amusingly, "You missed a spot."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, aren't you one to talk?" she told him, reaching up to rub off the residual streaks off from Michael's cheeks and chin.

For a few moments in resigned silence, they continued to clean the other's faces.

Being this close to him, Nikita realized that the awkward feeling she had earlier when she was alone with Michael was just genuinely all in her head. There was nothing uncomfortable about it. There never was. There never should have been. Jealousy really had distorted her view on every little thing that happened between the two of them.

But now, knowing the truth, Nikita couldn't believe how blind she became.

It was all in Michael's eyes.

The way he looked at her…

It was more than enough to know what he really felt about her.

She should have seen that.

Cassandra was right: she just had to trust in Michael.

Speaking of which…

"That was Cassandra, by the way," Nikita told him. "On the phone."

He paused. A crease formed between his eyebrows. He prompted her to continue.

Nikita shrugged her thin shoulders lightly. "She said 'you're welcome'."

Michael slowly nodded in comprehension. Tossing the soiled handkerchief on the nearest surface, he resumed to removing the last spot of the pink substance from Nikita's chin with his thumb. His eyes were glassy and unfocused as he did so, no doubt thinking of something.

It was a small weight off her shoulders but Nikita knew it was not enough. She still had to properly apologize (because the last time she did, she was crying her eyes out and she didn't think that counted). There were so many things she had to say but she didn't know where to begin. Or even how to say it.

"Alex called too. While you were outside," Michael suddenly said. Looking at her deeply, he moved his hand and curled it around the side of Nikita's slender neck. Running his thumb across her mocha cheek, he confessed, "She told me."

Nikita instantly knew what he meant, what Alex could have said. She now had a funny feeling that everything was planned. From Owen earlier that morning, to Birkhoff calling Cassandra, and now Alex… Though it somehow didn't surprise Nikita that their friends would orchestrate something like this to get her and Michael to kiss and make up. She was blessed to have such great people around her. They really have become a family who looked out for one another.

It helped though. It really did.

Now, Nikita knew what she would have to say, where to begin.

The most simplest of all, at the start of every reconciliation.

"Michael, I'm so sorry."

Nikita sighed and shifted her gaze away from him. Her voice was shaky with emotions when she said, "I should have known."

Michael was silent at first. He just stared at her, searching her face.

"Yeah, you should've," He then told her, softly. With his other hand, he tucked a stray lock of Nikita's brown hair behind her ear. "But it's okay."

"What I did to you and our daughter," She closed her eyes briefly to stem the tears that threatened to spill, "is unforgivable."

"You did what you thought was right," With both hands on either side of Nikita's neck, Michael made her look up to him. His green eyes were warm. There was a sad smile on his lips as he told her, "But it's done and over with. I'm here now."

Nikita replied with a smile of her own.

They gazed at each other for a moment before he tenderly kissed her on the forehead.

Closing the distance between them, Nikita wrapped her arms around Michael and pressed herself into him. She felt her body instantly relax as he returned her embrace just as tight. Closing her eyes, she buried her face into his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. She couldn't even begin to fathom just how much she missed him. The way she always felt in his arms, the way he always seemed to know her, the way she can be herself around him… just everything.

"We're gonna make this work," she whispered.

Whether she said it more to herself or to Michael, Nikita found that it didn't really matter anymore.

Because this time, she believed it.

* * *

><p><strong>And we stop there!<strong>

**Anyone thought they were gonna kiss? Haha. If you did, well, sorry to disappoint you there.**

**But breathe a sigh of relief! The majority of the Cassandra thing is over (at last!). I honestly couldn't wait to get her out of the story. It's not that I hate her or anything, it's just that there's so much more in this story that could finally happen now that her part is **_**almost**_** done.**

**Because, as they say, acceptance is the first step to reconciliation.**

**And that just means one thing: a Mikita reunion in the works! I'm sure a lot of you are excited for that one.**

**Okay, so for next chapter! I'll give you a little teaser. The story will jump a few days, and set on a Saturday. If you can remember what that day means to a particular person in this story, you'll have a pretty good idea on what's gonna happen. Another hint, the answer can be found in one of the earlier chapters. ;)**

**But before we end, of course, I wanna thank you again for reading.**

**And don't forget to Review, okay? They are LOVE. And love makes the world go 'round.**

**So, until the next update then. Though the end of this chapter could actually serve as the end to the whole story if I ever wanted to discontinue it now. If I was mean and didn't love you guys, that's what'll I'll do. Hahaha.**

**But where's the fun in that? We're only like, halfway through the whole thing. There's still so much cliffhangers to write! :D**

**xx Dani**


	9. Chapter 8: Birthday Gifts

**I seriously have a lot to apologize to. Eeeep!**

**Firstly, to you readers. This update took longer than necessary. **_**So sorry**_** about that!**

**I'll just give a short explanation why: I was off being a football/soccer fangirl for a few days. **_**Then**_** I was still high on fangirl cloud nine for a few **_**more**_** days after (because after the game, my favorite player actually smiled at me, then walked over and held my hand – oooh *faints* HAHA!). Ahem. And **_**then**_**, when I finally got to finish this chapter around a week ago, my computer crashed. Ugh. Horrible experience. And I wasn't able to save the file anywhere else so I had to wait for the thing to get fixed so… yeah, those are the reasons for the late update. I'm really, really, really sorry everyone!**

**And secondly, this chapter is dedicated to Sheem. So sorry I wasn't able to post this earlier for your birthday! So, belated birthday gift? :D**

**Right. Okay, so before you read on… Reviewers, thank you. As always. And I really love you people.**

**And to those who PM'ed me to update! Haha! Well, here it is!  
><strong>

**Oh, and for those who asked, yes, I am still gonna continue with this story! There is still so much to write! :D  
><strong>

**So I'll shut up now. Here's to hoping this chapter is to your liking!**

**Enjoy the update! :)**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 8: Birthday Gifts<span>

"_I can't deny you something I want myself_." – 2x06

Saturday couldn't come any faster.

An ecstatic laugh filled the air.

Ilya rattled the box of her brand new, state-of-the-art gaming console. Even the simple, generic sound just made her chortle with happiness.

Behind the girl's back however, Nikita gave Birkhoff a pointed stare.

He just responded with a smug look and said, "Well, _someone_ has to teach her about technology around here."

"Oh, please, Nerd," Nikita scoffed, teasingly. "You're just finding an excuse to buy the thing. I know you've been looking for another ever since Owen spilled beer on your last one."

"Hey!" Owen cried out defensively from the lounge chair he was sitting on, "That was _not _my fault!"

Alex, who sat next to him, sniggered. Focusing her camera on him, she took a picture before she nudged him in the ribs and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right."

Nikita smiled, watching everyone's interactions. She had come to love and exist for these moments. And she had Ilya to thank for it. Not just for bonding them closer together, but also for bringing out a certain joy in all of them. The child had created an atmosphere that allowed them all to act in ways they have never been before because of who and what they were. All the seriousness and sobriety they were forced to learn in their life before and back in Division have been undoubtedly curbed to a certain degree.

Because of Ilya, they were all given a chance to _live _the moment, the present.

Maybe even regress to act like a child too at times.

Nikita glanced at Michael, who was on the bean bag situated next to hers. She saw that he was clearly enjoying the whole thing as much as she was.

Well, it _is _special since it's his first experience with his daughter's birthday.

And also for the fact that he was seeing first-hand what Nikita meant that the little girl was being spoiled too much by her aunt and uncles.

Getting impatient with the interruptions, Ilya poked her mother on the leg to get her attention. When Nikita looked at her, she pointed excitedly to the presents left unopened on the coffee table.

"Ohh," Nikita chuckled, reaching for smallest box remaining and giving it to her daughter's waiting hands. She asked aloud, "Now who's this from?"

"That's from me!" Alex informed, happily taking snapshots like she always did during these occasions. Taking pictures was the only way to preserve things because memories can sometimes be unreliable narrators, she would always say. That's why she became the self-appointed photographer ever since she found out Nikita was pregnant.

They had all agreed that when everything would finally blow over in the future, they will, at least, have good and funny memories-filled pictures to look back to.

However, all the pictures taken have never been printed out. At least, not yet. It was all sent and stored in various hidden devices that can be updated wirelessly – a system Birkhoff had designed to pattern after Percy's black boxes. Leaving no physical trace. Just one of the safety precautions they had to take. Because even if they may have been out of the radar for 6 years, Division, Gogol, and other enemies were still out there. Dangerous people were still looking for them. So their security was the one thing they could never let slip (though having an MI6 agent locate them meant that there had to be changes to be done soon). And until the war was over, they could never really settle down.

It was also for that reason that even though they have lived in the beautiful Caribbean villa for a long time, it was still just a temporary home. So there weren't any real _personal _touches in the house. They could still leave everything in a moment's notice. No qualms, no attachments. Start all over once again. Nikita had already prepared Ilya for that, when the moment comes.

It was a lesson she didn't want to teach to anyone. Much less her own child. But no matter how much she didn't want that kind of experience for her daughter, Nikita didn't have a choice. Ilya was born into an unconventional family who, is not only being hunted by black ops organizations, but is also composed of a group of spies and assassins who, supposedly, do not exist.

Oh, Ilya definitely had one heck of a life story laid out for her.

But as of that moment, the excited birthday girl ripped through the blue-and-green wrapping paper like a little Tasmanian devil. A twinkle appeared in her eyes as she saw the item. The gleeful laugh she made as she held the coral-colored MP3 player in her hands had everyone smile with her.

Nikita and Alex exchanged a glance. The former knew what that device meant to the latter.

Everyone around proudly watched as Ilya placed her new gadget gingerly along with the pile of her other gifts. She was undoubtedly thrilled with the things given to her, which included a children's cooking set, a box of Lego, some high-tech art supplies, more clothes and shoes (though Birkhoff grumbled at those because it meant that he had to tag a tracker to each one), a dollhouse, the latest gaming console, another set of novelty prank items, and books.

Many things that would've sent any child into cloud nine.

However, what currently topped the young girl's list for the moment was the castle Birkhoff bought. It was the first birthday gift she got when she woke up that morning.

Nikita had to admit, she was surprised at that one. Birkhoff really found a way around to get Ilya what she wanted.

Well, sort of.

When Birkhoff pulled the cloth cover to unveil the whole thing, the now-5-year-old didn't even seem to mind that it was just an inflatable, bouncy playground in the shape of a castle.

The remaining adults (who all had woken up – except Nikita, who just rolled out of bed because she still couldn't sleep – earlier to clean, blow up balloons, decorate the house, bake a cake, and whatever else) just tilted their heads to the side in amazement at the humongous toy set up in their backyard by the beach.

"I guess, _technically_, it's still a castle," Michael said, almost unsure of what he was saying.

Nobody commented further and instead, just admired how Ilya had already crawled in and bounced around in her pajamas. Even before breakfast, she was already giddy with happiness.

Nikita couldn't help but laugh. Her daughter was seriously being spoiled too much.

As the gift-giving continued, though she was still glad, Ilya was a bit confused when she opened other presents that happened to be a remote-controlled helicopter, a mini bow with a quiver of plastic arrows, a toy car and racing track, a small punching bag, padded body armor, a pair of gloves, and a miniature poker set complete with a box of playing cards.

Birkhoff and Owen roared with laughter at the expression of the two older women looking more horrified than the last as each of those presents were opened. Even Michael couldn't hide his chuckle.

Boys and their toys.

But they all shut up when Nikita threw them a withering glare.

Oblivious to what was happening around her, Ilya tugged on her mother's hand and requested for the last of her two unopened gifts.

"Right." Nikita suddenly smiled, turning back to her daughter. As if she wasn't about to wring 2 (maybe 3) men's necks just a second ago. Grabbing the violet box from the table, she said, "Next–"

"Wait!"

They all turned to look at Owen.

"Uhh…" He grinned sheepishly. Scratching the back of his neck, he said, "It's probably better if you open the other one first."

Nikita blinked and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fine," She sighed, rolling her eyes. Exchanging the gift for the last one on the table, Nikita gave the blue box to Ilya. She noticed that it was slightly heavier for its size, making her wonder what was inside it.

But when the box was opened, eyes just widened and no one dared to say anything.

Except Ilya, of course, who frowned at first before breaking out into a giggle.

The object's polished finish gleamed.

Michael, managing to get over the shock fastest, said the first sentence out. In disbelief and building outrage, he turned to Owen. "A _gun_?"

Alex jabbed her significant other in the arm, whispering angrily, "_What the hell were you thinking_?"

"Ow!" Owen said, rubbing his arm. He defended, "It's just a BB gun! Geez… Besides, she has to learn, y'know. And what better way than to start 'em young?"

They didn't know how to respond to that.

At a glance, the toy could have easily passed for a real one. And with the target paper tucked into the side of the box, it was easy to make the assumption.

"The website I bought it from said it was ninety-nine percent accurate," Owen proudly declared.

Closing back on the lid of the box, Nikita calmly took the gift from her daughter and slid it over to the back of the pile. Ilya watched longingly but just kept quiet. If there was one thing her mother taught her, it was that firearms weren't a plaything. Fake or not.

It's not like Nikita didn't want her daughter to learn how to handle a gun. She did, but not yet and certainly not now. And it should be for self-defense only. Because a better part of her life, Nikita had always kept a weapon within an arms reach. Still does. There was no other reason except that it had already become an extended part of her limb. She knew it like she knew the back of her hand. And she defended and killed with it.

Nikita didn't want that life for Ilya. She didn't want her daughter to learn what she had to, what she was forced to.

Because for one reason, no child with an adorable pout like Ilya's should even be subjected to that.

But the young girl's moue slowly formed into a grin when she saw Owen sneak a wink at her.

Catching Owen's gesture out of the corner of her eye, Nikita turned to him and warned in a light voice, "If anyone gets hurt – even just a _scratch_ – you are gonna be in so much trouble."

She saw Michael glance at her. His lips twisting into a smug yet approving smirk.

"Well, it's been nice knowing you, man," Birkhoff teasingly mumbled to Owen, patting him on the back.

"Shut up, Computer Guy."

When things settled down, Nikita handed Ilya the last gift on the table.

Feeling Michael's hand grasp hers, she smiled. So it was _his_ gift. She _had_ been wondering which one of the gifts was his. And since he wouldn't say anything to her when she asked what he bought, it just made her all the more curious. It was a moment of truth then. Fate probably saved the best for last, perhaps? This was a special moment for him.

For both of them.

They all watched in amusement when Ilya's face lit up as she opened the box to reveal a stuffed toy Dalmatian – her new favorite dog after watching that Disney movie a few days ago. But what really caught her attention was the small but sparkly tiara sitting comfortably on the stuffed animal's head.

It was enough to send the birthday girl into an elated rush.

Nikita had never seen her daughter so hyper.

She jumped up and down the throw pillow she had been sitting on, excitedly showing off the glittering circlet she placed on her head.

"Mommy! _Mommy_! Look! I'm a princess!"

Nikita laughed as Ilya ran up to her and wrapped her arms around her in a tight embrace. She then dashed around the patio to give everyone a bear hug. And mostly to hear compliments about her new semi-circle head ornament.

But what surprised Nikita most (though it really shouldn't have), was when her daughter practically threw herself at Michael and hugged him longer and tighter than the others – apart from her mother, of course.

Over the past week since his arrival, Nikita gave Michael and Ilya whatever chance they could spend with each other. She was almost hesitant at first, since she didn't know how her daughter would react. But her worries were all for nothing because Ilya was just unconsciously drawn to Michael just as a daughter would be to her father.

She trusted him.

Nikita couldn't deny it though: she was getting a bit jealous that her daughter was spending a lot of her time with Michael instead of her, and that his attention was focused more on the young girl. And then she'd catch herself and just laugh. She was jealous of a little _kid_. Her own daughter.

But as it turned out, everyone else in the household was feeling the same way too. Some of them were even taking it harder than expected.

Just yesterday, Nikita caught Birkhoff and Owen huddled in the corner aiming a tranq dart at Michael while he was watching Ilya run after a butterfly in the garden. She thwarted their plans and also gave them both an earful about how they were the child's godfathers and should start acting like one.

Because, honestly, she just couldn't bring herself to _not _see the smile that graced Michael's lips whenever Ilya animatedly talked to him, or how her green eyes just gleamed when she manages to get her father to do something for her.

It was really quite a sight to see.

It was also because of that she was content sitting by the sidelines and watching how everything was unfolding.

That afternoon, veggie shake in hand, Nikita seated herself comfortably on the porch steps by the driveway. She was amusingly observing Michael teaching the young girl on how to ride the purple bike her mother had given as a birthday present. They looked cute. The bike even had those multicolored tassels at the end of the handlebars. And, even though it had training wheels on, Ilya was surprisingly a wobbly driver.

But Nikita knew her daughter was in good hands. Since Michael was the one who taught _her_ to drive a car, a boat, and a plane back in Division, Nikita was sure he could most certainly handle teaching his own 5-year-old daughter on how to ride a bike.

"Huge turnout this year."

Nikita glanced up and saw that it was Alex, sans her camera. She smiled but gave her a questioning look, remembering that the younger woman disappeared with her beau into some parts of the house earlier that afternoon. And usually, they didn't come out until later. _Much_ later.

Alex silently explained her early appearance by pointing her thumb over her shoulder and shaking her head. Nikita looked around to the front door and saw a glimpse of movement in the living room. And then as if on cue, Owen and Birkhoff's shouts got louder. Thinking it was serious, she listened closer and realized that the two men were bickering about which video game to play first on _Ilya_'s new gaming console.

With all the new stuff, it seemed like there was currently more than 1 kid in the house right now.

Nikita chuckled softly. She rolled her eyes and patted the spot next to her.

Settling down, Alex bumped her ex-mentor's shoulder teasingly, and continued, "You know, this is gonna set the standard of every birthday after this one."

"Yeah," the older woman laughed, softly. She placed her glass down next to her. "But I don't even want to think about when she gets older."

"We'll blow the bridge when we come to it, right?"

Nikita nodded.

At that moment, Ilya made an awkward turn and almost fell off her bike. Alex and Nikita made an involuntary move to get up but Michael had already caught the young girl. The two women relaxed and sat back down when they saw that the child was safe.

But it turned out that she was more than safe. She was safe _and_ happy. Ilya even giggled when Michael righted her back on her seat and fixed the tiara that had gone askew atop her pretty little head.

Nikita was still feeling uneasy though. It nagged at her that Ilya wasn't wearing a helmet. Even though she knew that her daughter would be alright with Michael near her, it still made her worry out of her skin – she couldn't help it, she was a mother. And the fact that her child was relentlessly adamant that 'princesses don't wear helmets' didn't really help. But since it was her birthday, Nikita let it slide. For today. The next time, however, her daughter was going to wear protective gear whether she liked it or not.

She couldn't deny though, the tiara was a nice touch.

And, even if she wouldn't admit it yet, Nikita was a bit fascinated by the glittering object. And how Michael managed to get it so fast. Or rather, what did he have to do to the Bank Of Birkhoff to get something valuable like that in so short a time. Because she had a funny feeling that those little gems weren't just rhinestones and cubic zirconium. But Michael was being mum about it when she asked. He'd just smile cheekily and tell her that it's 'for him and Birkhoff and the seller to know'.

But, thinking back, Nikita did remember hearing Michael talking to some of his contacts a few days ago. And based from personal experience, she knew that those acquaintances were _very_ well-connected. Who knows, maybe one of them had an emerald-and-diamond tiara lying around somewhere.

Quite the gift for someone who would probably be over her 'Princess Phase' in a few weeks.

On the other hand, it _was _Michael's first gift. And he did have to make up for the 4 birthdays that he missed. Since Ilya was definitely delighted by it, Nikita guessed that it was worth it.

The multi-faceted jewels caught and reflected the rays of the afternoon sun, making them glint and sparkle. It was undeniably very beautiful. The green gemstones especially, popped out well against Ilya's brown hair. And it matched her eyes.

Ilya let out joyful laugh as she rode off on her bike for quite a few feet without Michael's assistance. With the slight wind blowing through her hair, and the complete excitement and contentment written all over her face, it wasn't hard to tell that the young girl did feel like a princess at that moment.

Glancing over to Michael, who looked quite proud too, Nikita smiled.

"So how are things with you two?"

There was a slight pause as Nikita almost forgot that Alex was there with her. She thought about her answer. Finally, she just settled on, "I don't know."

The younger woman looked down in acknowledgment; cheeks turning slightly pink, "Not my business –"

"No," Nikita said, looking at her. Shrugging, she explained, "I don't know. We said we'd work it out but so far, nothing. Sure, we'd hold hands and the occasional hug, but that's it... And then, of course, there's Ilya. You know how he's been spending most of his time with her."

"Yeah. Owen's been griping about that," Alex murmured, watching the father-daughter interaction with wistful blue eyes. There was some sadness that passed through her, Nikita noticed. Looking back to her ex-mentor, she said, "Maybe you should just finish this Ilya-not-knowing-her-father thing. Hasn't Michael already proved himself enough that he cares for her too? Besides, I think Ilya wouldn't really be surprised about it. She's a smart girl. After that, maybe then the things between you and Michael would finally work out."

Nikita sighed. "I don't know, Alex. What if Ilya isn't ready –"

"Oh, come on, Nikita," she groaned. "Give Ilya some credit. She's tougher than you think. She has your and Michael's genes. You can't get any tougher than that."

"But what if–"

A cry interrupted their conversation. Their gaze snapped to the young girl who was wailing on the driveway, her overturned bike just lying by her feet. Mother's instincts kicking in, Nikita automatically stood up to go to her daughter but Alex reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Wait," she said quickly, cutting off Nikita when she was about to object. "Give Michael a chance."

Frowning a bit, Nikita reluctantly watched her crying daughter as Michael rushed over to scoop her up and cradle her in his arms. If Ilya's cries weren't tugging on her heartstrings, she probably would have laughed at the almost-terrified expression on Michael's face as he tried to calm their daughter down while surreptitiously checking if she had any scrapes on her. Luckily, there were none.

Nikita made a mental note that next time, along with the helmet, arm and knee pads, Ilya was going to have a pillow tied over her butt. She wasn't going to take chances anymore.

Alex chuckled then said softly, "Michael is so whipped."

As the two women continued to watch, Michael had whispered some things to the young girl. Surprisingly, Nikita thought, whatever it was, worked because the 5-year-old was already starting to quieten in record time. Those who raised Ilya knew that she wasn't a kid that cried that easily, but when she did, the hard part was getting her to stop. Even Nikita had some difficulty to do that at times. And she's already the child's mother.

So for Michael to do that…

As he settled Ilya down on her feet, Michael crouched down to wipe the tears that fell down the child's cheeks and pushed away the strands of brown hair that plastered on her face. She even let out a slight smile when her father planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

Oh, she was definitely becoming a Daddy's Girl.

If only she knew…

Feeling Alex's grasp on her wrist fall away, Nikita strode over to the two. A smile tugged on her lips as Ilya wrapped her arms around Michael's neck. It was such a charming moment.

Catching Nikita's gaze, Michael smiled then turned Ilya towards her and said, "Oh, now see? Look who's coming. Who is that? Who's the beautiful lady?"

A slight blush crept to Nikita's face, making their daughter titter.

As Michael let the young girl go, she ran to her mother. Nikita picked her up in one smooth and practiced lift. She kissed and nuzzled the young girl's cheek affectionately. Combing a hand through the child's brown locks and readjusting the tiara, she smiled as her daughter looked up to her.

Pushing her mother's hair back over her shoulder with her small hands, Ilya grinned, bringing out that dimple again. She hugged her mother, burying her face on Nikita's neck.

"You okay, pumpkin?" Nikita asked, stroking the child's back. She also covertly checked for any wounds or scrapes, just to be sure.

Ilya nodded.

"Did it hurt when you fell off your bike?"

She nodded.

_Always honest Ilya_. "Does it still hurt?"

She shook her head.

Nikita chuckled. "Do you still want to learn how to ride your bike?"

She didn't even hesitate to nod. She was tough.

"'Atta girl."

Ilya wriggled in Nikita's arms. Bringing her hands together, she cupped them around her mother's ear and whispered, "That's what Michael said too."

Turning slightly, she glanced at Michael. Nikita smiled. She remembered the times he used to say that to her.

Good times.

Nikita finally saw what Alex meant that there was no point keeping these two people away from each other anymore.

He was right. Just like with her, Ilya will always be his girl too.

Tucking a stray strand behind her daughter's ear, it was Nikita's turn to whisper something to her.

When she was done, the little girl pulled away slightly and looked at her mother, eyes wide.

But Nikita just smiled and nodded.

It took almost a second for the child to take in the new information. After that, Ilya pecked her mother's lips lightly and said, "I'll always love you, Mommy."

"And I'll always love you too."

Walking over to Michael, Nikita handed their child to him.

Ilya crawled excitedly into his grasp and latched her arms around him. She then placed a loud kiss on his cheek.

"I love you, Daddy."

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><p><strong>Do I hear an 'aww'?<strong>

**So! Ilya finally knows that Michael is her father! Yay. A special shout out to nikitafan4ever for guessing what's gonna happen in this chapter. :D**

**No Mikita reunion still though, right? Tsk tsk. Sorry, I'm just prolonging the agony. Haha! But it's definitely getting closer!**

**Well, next chapter should definitely be fun. *wink wink***

**Okay, anyway! So how'dya all find this chapter? Good? Bad? Over-the-top? Not enough?**

**And how about the gifts?**

**Let me know in the Reviews!**

**Oh, and other comments, criticisms, suggestions are always welcomed, y'know! :)**

**So until next update, and before I get too lost into fangirling again…**

**Thank you so much for reading, okay?**

**Spread the Mikita love.**

**xx Dani**


	10. Chapter 9: Rekindled

**Hey everyone!**

**UPDAAATE TIIIIME! Hahahaha!**

**Sorry, I'm a bit hyper right now. Probably because I'm so giddy. With all the absolutely fun spoilers from Comic Con, the first day of taping for the show, the casts' tweeted pics, the sweet, kind, and awesome reviews for the story, my excitement for you guys to read this chapter… Ohh, Lordy.**

**Okay, I'll keep it short.**

**Readers and Reviewers, I cannot thank you enough. You are one reason I am able to continue with this story. You guys rock! This chapter is dedicated to ****each ****and ****every ****one ****of ****you****.**

**Hopefully you'll all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. ;)**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 9: Rekindled<span>

"_You have a family, right here_." – 2x05

It was hot.

Her skin was slick with sweat.

Her breath came out in ragged pants.

Her heart was beating hard against her chest.

Her ponytailed-hair swung back and forth.

Every muscle in her lithe body contracted and stretched every time she moved. A resounding _thud _echoed in the room each time her powerful fists connected with the punching bag. The chains creaked, straining to support the object as it was being violently bombarded with physical assaults.

Nikita was tense, and she needed an outlet to expend all the unwanted energy. So with every hit, she concentrated all her being into it. It was also a form of distraction, something she could focus on instead of replaying in her mind the things that happened earlier that day.

_That Sunday morning, the day after Ilya's birthday, they drove to Bridgetown for the farmer's market. It was just her, Michael, and their daughter because the others wanted to give them this time alone together – as a family._

_Skipping alongside them while they walked, it was clear that Ilya was happily enjoying the bonding time. She was certainly having no problem transitioning into a child that finally had a set of complete parents. Bringing their hands together, the young girl would let out a giggle whenever Michael and Nikita's hands touched._

_What Ilya didn't know was that at every skin contact, it made her mother feel a bit warmer. She was still trying to get acquainted with the notion and the sight of the three of them walking around town like a real… _family_. It was sort of strange somehow. But Nikita just hid what she felt with a few glances to Michael. When they'd catch each other's gaze, they'd just smile and keep walking._

_At some point, the young girl got tired of strolling and asked her father to carry her on his shoulders – something 'Uncle Owen did all the time' she told him. She really had a gift of knowing what buttons to press._

_So as Ilya happily got what she wanted, Nikita chuckled and commented to Michael, "Alex is right, you are_ so whipped."

_He gladly answered her with a smirk, and then proceeded to link her hand with his._

_Nikita smiled – a veneer she kept coolly as inside her was a different story. It was definitely getting warmer. And her heart might have just skipped a beat right then._

_She didn't know what the hell was going on with her._

_Having bought everything they needed at the farmer's market, they went to have lunch in this small yet quaint restaurant Nikita and Ilya knew after their many visits to the area. It was off the beaten track so very few tourists know about it. And the charming and courteous staffs also added to the rustic atmosphere that made them love the place._

_After lunch, they went around town some more before heading to the beach. Along the way, Ilya pointed to a flower shop that displayed a collection of assorted-colored blossoms on their window. The child begged Michael to buy her a daisy (because they were really so pretty), and the indulgent father just couldn't say no. Nikita rolled her eyes and laughed as she teased Michael on how she never knew him as being so pliant._

_But her words lodged in her throat when he gave her a beautiful, long-stemmed white rose – her favorite. _

_A smile graced Nikita's lips. It was such a long time ago, back in her Division days, when she told him this little tidbit of information about what she liked. She couldn't believe it. All this time… Not hiding the appreciation, she told him, "You remembered."_

_Michael glanced at the blooming flower then back to her and gave that half-smile she always liked. "I remember a lot of things."_

_Nikita could feel her heart expand in her chest. Raising her hand, she placed it against the side of Michael's face and ran her thumb against his cheek. Her brown eyes were soft as she stared into his. She didn't know if she was going to smile or cry. Maybe both._

_They stared at one another for a moment._

_A heartbeat._

_Clearing her throat, Nikita turned and left the store. When Michael followed shortly, there was definitely a new feeling and some slight tension that settled over them._

_At the beach, both parents had a hard time preventing their daughter from running into the water. She wanted to go for a swim so much but they weren't able to bring any extra clothes. Ilya pouted and sulked but Nikita managed to convince her that she can go for a swim back at the house any time she wanted. Satisfied with that, the little girl settled to playing in the sand with her parents. As the afternoon went by, Ilya drifted off to play tag with other children her own age. Under the supervision of her parents, of course. _

_When it was time to go home, Ilya was so exhausted that she fell asleep in her father's arms on their way back to the car._

_As Michael unloaded their child into her car seat, Nikita proudly and fondly watched them. He was really great with children._

_She took a deep breath._

_Leaning against the hood of the Range Rover, she stared at the rose she held in her hand. There was just something in its appearance that she always admired. The pureness and innocence – like a child. Maybe that's why she always loved it._

"_Well, Ilya's out like a light," Michael said, as he came up beside her._

_Nikita smiled at his choice of words._

_Gazing over to the horizon, they both took in the scene before them. In silence, they watched how the yellow-orange rays of the setting sun were getting smaller beyond the ocean in the distance. And how the blue of the night was already trying to claim its time on the skyline. It had been a long time since they have done this together, watching as another day has passed._

_It should have been a romantic sight really. If not for the tension that was building between them._

"_Hey," Michael said, breaking the silence. His gaze was soft as he looked at her, "What's the matter? You've been acting strange the whole day."_

_She shook her head lightly. "It's nothing."_

"_Nikita," he went up to stand in front of her. Closing his hands around her arms, he pressed, "What is it?"_

_She looked up to him. His green eyes were searching. He was truly concerned for her._

_With a resigned smile, Nikita sighed and told him, "It's just, you're here... I never dreamed we'd be able to spend a day like this."_

_Michael was just silent, waiting for her to say more._

"_To tell you the truth," she continued. Looking down at the rose he had given her, it gave Nikita some courage. So before she lost it, she expressed the thoughts she had been harboring, "I never believed the others when they said you'd come back. I mean, why would you? With Cassandra, you had Max. You had what you wanted again – a family… But with me, as far as you knew, it was just the two of us. You had no reason to come back–"_

_Her words were cut as she was pulled into Michael's arms then. He held her tight. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she held him close, burying her face into his neck. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply._

_She had to remind herself that this was really happening. That he was really here with her._

"_Nikita," he breathed, tightening his hold on her just a bit more, "how can I ever show you… you've always _underestimated_ how much you mean to me."_

_Shaking her head softly, she said, "Michael, I know–"_

"_No, you _don't. _Listen to me," he interrupted her, pulling away so he can look into her glistening brown eyes. His voice was firm as he told her, "When I was with Max, whether it was kicking a ball in the park or driving him to school, I'd always look over my shoulder half-expecting you were there."_

_Nikita swallowed and looked away, not bearing to look into Michael's intense green eyes._

"_When you left the safe house and I didn't hear from you, I was worried out of my mind," He said, "I even had to bring in MI6's help just to find you – even though it took longer than I imagined–"_

"_Well, you_ were _up against Shadow Walker." Nikita chuckled softly._

"_Yeah," Michael smirked. He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her slender neck. He made her look up to him, "But I never gave up on you… Even if it wasn't for Ilya, I still had a reason to come back – you. Because_ you_ are_ my_ family, Nikita. Didn't you tell me that once?"_

_Her heart fluttered._

"_But that was before you knew about Max," she whispered, looking away from him again. "And that was a long time ago."_

"_It doesn't change a thing. I love _you_ and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That's all that matters." He told her, rubbing a calloused thumb across her cheek. He closed his eyes briefly before admitting, "I'm just scared."_

_A frown crossed her features as she gazed back to him. She echoed, "Scared?"_

"_Terrified," he joked weakly. His green eyes somewhat apologetic, he continued, "I've hurt you so many times. It seems that every time I get close to you that's what happens. And I don't want to do that to you anymore. I don't want to see you get hurt, Nikita. But I can't lose you either."_

_Nikita couldn't help it anymore. She reached up and pressed her lips against his. It was a firm yet gentle kiss. And it was one full of profound feelings._

_Pulling away gently, she smiled up to him and said, "You're not gonna lose me. Never again."_

_Cupping her face in his hand, Michael closed the distance between them once more. _

Nikita blinked as her focus faltered and her fist slid sideways from its marker. Regaining her balance, she stepped away to take a quick breather. She paced around the punching bag as she readjusted her training gloves and her gray sports bra.

She shook her head. So much for keeping her thoughts in order.

But the memory of the kiss, the feel of Michael's lips on hers again after so many years, the way they moved against each other… it was all so achingly familiar, and she missed it so much. It was all she could think about.

Especially since it ended so abruptly because of a call from Birkhoff ordering them to buy popcorn and a pack of beer.

Letting out her breath in a puff, Nikita resumed her attack on the bag. She had to focus on her training, or else she just might have to go under an ice cold shower later. Though she was wishing she wouldn't have to reach the latter because that really wouldn't help with her insomnia. It's already been a little over a week since she's last had a good night's sleep, and she really needed one or she might as well go crazy. Hopefully, exhaustion would be the cure.

With her focus being lost in her thoughts, Nikita didn't hear when the door opened. She also didn't hear when someone walked up behind her and called her name. The only time she knew that Michael was in the room was when one of her fists landed on his open hand.

"_God, Michael_!" she exclaimed, jerking in surprise. Her other gloved-hand flew to her chest to calm her racing heart. "Don't creep up on me like that!"

He smirked and raised an eyebrow at her, amused. It was not very spy-like of her to be caught unawares.

Nikita closed her eyes briefly, placed her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. Her heart still hadn't calmed down yet. Though she had a feeling it wasn't going to anytime soon.

"Alex said you were in the gym, uhh…" Michael trailed off after looking around the room. He looked at her and said, "Great place."

She gave him a sideward glance. 'Great' was just an understatement. But since it was his first time inside the area, it was quite understandable to be in awe.

If there was one instance Birkhoff didn't grumble about the expenses spent, it would be for this place. Nikita and the others were quite proud of the area. The huge training room doubled as an armory that would've put any military base to shame. One reinforced-concrete wall displayed all kinds of firearms, from simple handguns to high caliber rifles, complete with fully-loaded long and short clips, and boxes of gleaming bullets, both frangible and hollow-point rounds. Another wall was covered with Kevlar vests, dozens of knives, grenades, C4s, tear gas, first aid kits, and all other kinds of tactical and survival equipment.

And everything was even enclosed in a safe, child-proof glass case because Ilya usually ventured into the room whenever a sparring session went on during the day. Somehow the child enjoyed watching her mother, her aunt, or her uncles trying to take down one another (she even cheered for Nikita many times, knowing that she was almost always the better fighter).

There were also 2 other doors at the end of the room, leading to an underground passage away from the house.

The center of the room was dedicated to a training area similar to that of Division's. Except for some areas, almost the whole floor was covered with mats. Treadmills, other cardio and resistance machines lined unobtrusively by the side. There were also punching bags and dummies in one corner. It was enough to keep any spy in the top of their game.

Nikita just smiled and shrugged. Letting her ponytail loose, she walked over to the side to take a swig from her water bottle. She didn't feel like working out anymore, now that Michael was in the room watching her. His presence was somehow… _distracting_. Especially when the thought of their kiss kept popping up in her head.

But even while she was drinking, instincts made her surreptitiously watch Michael out of the corner of her eye. When he took some training gloves and quietly strapped them on, Nikita's lips pulled into a rather patronizing smirk.

It was suddenly there. That familiar, playful vibe, quickly filling the room with an excited and palpable tension as everything turned into a waiting game.

In almost a split second after he was done with the gloves, Michael lunged for Nikita. But she had anticipated his move and defended herself by squirting water from her bottle to his face. Hit squarely in the eyes, Michael had to stop and clear his vision. Nikita took this opportunity to flit away from his reach.

She laughed softly. "Really think you could take me by surprise, huh?"

He turned to her, his hair dripping wet. A brief smile passed his lips, "Worth the try, right?"

"Twelve years ago that probably would've worked. But I'm not falling for that again." She remarked. Her eyes glinted as she tossed her now-empty water bottle. If Michael wanted to spar, she'd give it to him. She wouldn't mind having some hand-to-hand. Maybe that was what she needed (though she really wouldn't mind the physical contact too). And honestly, it's been a long time since she's met her match.

She rushed over and threw a series of coordinated hits, all of which Michael was able to divert or block. But, as he made the small mistake of an overcompensating step, turning his body fully towards her, Nikita got him with a kidney punch. He flinched, and she turned rapidly on her heel to elbow him in the abdomen.

Stepping away to give some breathing room, she taunted, "You're a bit slower than I remember, Michael. You sure you still want to take me on?"

Flexing his fingers, he smirked. He was never one to take her goading lightly. His green eyes were bright and vivid as he said, "Always."

Minimizing their distance, it was Michael's turn to go on offense. He delivered his strikes in his own signature, direct and brawnier style. Though Nikita didn't have the strength to block each hit fully, she was agile enough to evade it.

She ducked just in time to avoid a swipe near her head. Michael was definitely giving her a great but hard time. He even had some new moves. Maybe his time in London had also been spent sparring with some MI6 recruits and agents. There have already been a few instances when he almost had her but she still somehow managed to maneuver her way out in the last second.

Darting out of his attack zone yet again, Nikita smiled as she took in deep breaths. Her cheeks were flushed. She gazed at Michael, thrill and exhilaration clear in their faces.

"S'that all you got?" she razzed at him. They circled around the mat, waiting for the other to make a move.

Lips curving upward, he stated, "I'm just getting started."

And they went at it again.

It was like they've fallen into their pattern, as if time apart were nothing.

The whole thing was like a sensual dance. It was so synchronized, that it almost seemed choreographed. Maybe it was, taking years in the making. They both moved so fast and so beautifully that it was sometimes hard to perceive that they were actually two forces moving against each other, instead of together. Though either way, they were still at their best.

But with every hit, every punch, every kick they made, it transported them back to a time so many years ago. It brought up memories of things they used to do, and had missed doing when they were apart. It gave them a sense of sweet nostalgia of how everything all began.

Every block they made against their partner's move was proof of just how well they still knew each other. Despite the lost time, they still matched the other's intensity, ability, feeling…

They were still two pieces of the same puzzle no matter what.

When Michael had Nikita pinned to the mat, she couldn't help but smile.

The heated tension that crackled in the air, the sense of not knowing what to do next, the quick glances at each other's lips… It was all so déjà vu.

Just like old times.

"Well, isn't this familiar," he said to her, his uneven breath brushing against her face. Though whether it was from exhaustion or exertion or something else, she really didn't know.

Brown eyes flashing roguishly, Nikita jabbed Michael hard in the solar plexus. He grimaced at the contact and recoiled slightly for a second. But it was long enough for her to take the opportunity to turn him over onto his back and straddle his waist.

Smirking triumphantly, Nikita splayed a hand onto Michael's chest and leaned close to his face. She flipped her long, dark hair to one side as she whispered in his ear, "Now _this _is definitely familiar."

As his taut chest visibly rose and fell against his black shirt, his heartbeat thrummed evenly under her fingers. Michael had instinctively placed his warm hands on her bare waist to keep her steady. Grinning enticingly, he suggested, "Care to continue where we left off earlier?"

She pulled away slightly, to look into Michael's green eyes. They were soft and affectionate, maybe a bit lascivious and naughty even, but she easily got lost in them. She bit the inside of her lower lip. It was really getting unbearably warm around the room. Or maybe it was just her. And her heart had definitely picked up its pace, making her wonder if he could hear it.

But they were somehow a bit hesitant and uncertain.

They had never been this physically _close_ to one another (or any other person) in a long time.

They did know what they both wanted though – each other. Body, heart, and soul. They always had. And probably always will.

It's just been a _long time_.

But after everything…

After all she's done, he still loved her.

And even if she tried to deny it many times before, she still loved him too.

They just had to take a chance. Again.

Because sometimes they just need to be reminded that they'll always have each other.

Nikita blinked. She then chuckled softly, her breath brushing teasingly along his lips and strong jaw. "Not so fast."

Bringing her free hand up, she ran it through Michael's crisp, dark hair and then tapped his cheek lightly. When his warm hands squeezed her waist, a shiver ran down Nikita's spine. The feel of his skin against hers made her body flush feverishly.

Distancing her self before she got too lost in that, Nikita climbed off of Michael, despite the tightening of his grip on her in protest. Winking coyly at him still laying on the mat, she tugged off her sparring gloves and walked away.

Well, at least she was _about _to saunter off when her legs were suddenly swiped out from under her.

Landing flat on her back, Nikita got slightly dazed at her rough impact on the mat. When she got her bearings straight a second later, she saw that Michael had trapped her beneath him yet again, emerald eyes glittering mischievously. She couldn't help but grin when she felt that both of her hands were pinned just above her head.

"Nice try," Michael told her, smirking as he was catching his breath. His gaze travelled slowly downward to her slightly parted, rosy lips then back up to her soulful brown eyes, as if memorizing her features. His smoky voice became rougher and huskier as he remarked, "Honestly, I've always liked this better."

Nikita let out a breathless laugh. "And you were always _such_ a tease."

He chuckled, releasing her hands so that he can brace them on either side of her body.

They gazed at each other for a couple of heartbeats, eyes darkening at each pulse. Their ragged breaths mingled and lightly caressed their faces. The space between them was dangerously small. The air suffocatingly thick. And the tension around them had been escalating, gravitating one to the other.

It didn't take long for it to be overwhelming, all-consuming.

They didn't know who moved first.

As Nikita reached up, Michael just simultaneously lowered himself until their lips met.

It was slow, deliberate, unhurried. Like getting reacquainted after such a long time. The feel of the other's warm lips on theirs, firm yet gentle, affectionate but demanding at the same time. The current that flowed between them heated their breaths, making their hearts race at the contact.

Even after their previous kiss earlier that day, everything still seemed new. But at the same time, it also wasn't.

Just realizing that her hands were free, Nikita snaked her arms around Michael's neck to pull him closer. She wanted – no, she _needed _him. The time apart had left her lonely, broken, and neglected in more ways than she could ever imagine. And Michael was always the only one who had the capacity to fill up that void.

She needed to be _loved_.

The feel of his hands caressing her body like she was the most fragile thing in the world, the way his lips melted and molded against hers, getting what he needed while giving her what she wanted, the domineering and possessive control he had that allowed her to lower her guard, let go, and surrender to his claiming touch… It made her need him all the more.

And, although it may have surprised her a bit, he actually needed her too.

So it didn't really take that long for the kiss to progress into something rougher, and more intense.

And suddenly a kiss was just not enough.

Raw and passionate hunger getting the best of them, they needed the feel of each other's bare skin on theirs.

Hands roaming, Nikita groaned in annoyance when all she felt were clothes. Michael smirked against her lips as she struggled to lift his shirt. Briefly pulling away from their kiss, he peeled off his gloves and his tee himself and tossed it haphazardly to the side.

She sighed as their lips met again, his body pressed up against hers once more.

They kissed for whatever they craved.

For their pain, their hurt, and their anger…

For time lost...

For forgiveness and acceptance...

For desire…

For love…

They kissed until their lungs burned for air.

Pulling away, they gasped for breath. Michael then moved to trail kisses along Nikita's jaw until finally settling on the spot where her neck and shoulder met. Her breathing hitched at the feel of his hot lips closing on her skin. She closed her eyes and arched her back, succumbing to the fiery and unbridled sensations that surged throughout her body.

Nikita ran her hands along the planes of Michael's chest, tracing the contours of his lean physique, relishing the feel of the ripple of muscles that have heated her senses to a boiling point. She sighed his name and dug her nails into his back when he shifted to kiss the V of her neck.

But when her slender fingers found their way near the waistband of Michael's pants, he suddenly pried her hands off of him and pinned them to her side. Nikita's eyes snapped open, surprised at the rough movement. He laughed softly as he looked at her, green eyes gleaming, smolderingly dark. She glared at him, almost warningly, but he just smirked before smashing his lips against hers again.

Pulling away only for oxygen, they took time to gaze at each other.

Oh, it was going to be a long night.

Hopefully no one would bother to check where they were.

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><p><strong>Whew. Rawr.<strong>

**I know some of you may have wanted **_**other **_**scenes but since I wanted to stay within the T-rated zone, I couldn't really put much more **_**details **_**into this. Sorry about that. Haha!**

**But the rest is up to your vivid imaginations! Be as graphic and explicit as you can be. *wink***

**Well, I think this must have been one of the most anticipated chapters yet, right?**

**So, did it live up to your expectations? Is everyone satisfied?  
><strong>

**Leave a Review and let me know, okay? I'd LOVE to read everyone's reactions.**

**Okay, here are my special mentions to those who really requested for the Mikita reunion from like, **_**waaay**_** before, up to the last chapter: Lilyx1021, uselesswriter23, Hp-Nikita, Mochi-girl, tirzahrae, Kia, unrequitedlove1, nikitafan4ever, Wholives4Eva, Emmachen1312.**

**Terribly sorry if I may have missed a name. Just let me know and I'll edit to include you. ;D**

**Okay! So I'll give you all a little glimpse on what to expect in the upcoming chapters. It'll be a bit light and easy - possibly fluffy - in, umm, around 2 more chapters before things, uhh… how should I put it? **

**Go downhill. Become a nightmare. Haha.**

**So enjoy everything while you can. :]**

**And, once again, thank you for taking time to read (and review!). **

'**Til the next update then. Stay awesome and completely badass.**

**xx Dani**


	11. Chapter 10: Moments

**Hey everyone!**

**Wow, you guys. Can I just say that the reviews are just too awesome for words? I cannot express my gratitude enough. But thank you anyway! This fandom is just… wow.**

**I'm actually really glad that I was able to post this update before I go on a mini-vacation. It'll take some guilt off my conscience. ;)**

**Okay, so here's the next chapter! Woohoo! A little more Mikita sexy times ahead (because we don't have enough of it on canon)! A lil' ol' birthday gift from me to you! Haha! :}**

**Hope you'll all like it! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 10: Moments<span>

"_You guys took your sweet time_." – 2x02

Amazingly enough, no one really did bother to check where they were.

Not that they would've noticed. Or cared.

Michael and Nikita were in far too deep in their own little world of flushed skin, ragged breaths, hot lips, and tangled limbs. They had submitted to the other's touch, whether gentle or rough. Affirming that overwhelming, undeniable bond of lust and love they always had as each searing kiss was embedded, as their tongues danced, as their hands caressed, as their bodies entwined.

They had lost so much. They had pushed each other to the edge. But now, here they were again. Together.

Body, heart, and soul.

It was what they would have ever wanted. Ever needed.

They just had to know that with each other, they will always have it.

That was why as they closed their eyes, succumbing to the exhaustion and fatigue, they had never felt so serene, so sated, and so peaceful.

Pure bliss.

Nikita woke up first, hours later, to the feel of bare skin, and soft, relaxed breaths grazing her neck.

She craned her head slightly to check the time on the wall clock above the door. Squinting a bit, she tried to get a read through her bleary vision. It was just a few minutes past 5 AM. She blinked, making sure she wasn't seeing things. It surprised her a bit that it was still early. Way earlier than she ever thought.

"G'morning." A low, sleepy voice breathed behind her.

Looking slightly over her shoulder, a small smile crept to Nikita's lips. She almost forgot that Michael was a light sleeper. Some slight, conscious movements were already enough to wake him up. Though from what she could also remember, he somehow always knew when she was awake, or was about to be.

Some things just never change, she guessed.

As Nikita started to turn around, Michael's arm around her waist tightened and pulled her close until her back hit his chest, stopping her from any change of position. A throaty, impish growl came from him as he buried his face in her hair.

Chuckling softly, Nikita thought that it was still so early in the morning and yet, they've already began some sort of power play.

"Well, isn't it a good morning for you," she teased. Opting to nestle deeper into Michael's arms and chest, she scooted nearer to him, pressing her body along his. He welcomed her closer contact, securing his hold around her waist. He also began to trace small, random patterns along her abdomen where his fingertips rested.

"Oh it is," he drawled. She could almost feel the indolent smile forming on his lips. He mumbled into her ear, "Sleep well?"

_Yes_, she wanted to say at first. This was the first time in more than a week that she was able to get some real sleep. Or, at any rate, what few hours of (surprisingly) restful shuteye she did have after a whole night and early morning of being… _very busy_.

If only she knew earlier that she needed to get laid to cure her insomnia…

Nikita smiled inwardly at that.

"You have no idea." She settled on saying. Laughing softly, she interlaced her hands with Michael's and brought it to her lips to kiss it.

Yawning and stretching, Nikita felt a bit stiff because of lying on the mats. Glancing down at the wool blankets that, not only covered their bare bodies, but also made up their improvised bed, she remarked lightly, "This is such a downgrade from my fabulous bed upstairs."

Michael chuckled as he kissed her hair. "We've had much worse."

"I know."

"And," he said, running his fingers along her collarbone and chest, "I don't remember you saying anything about it last night."

"I was a bit…" Trailing off, her eyes fluttered to a close. A moan almost escaped Nikita's lips but she caught herself before it did. Clamping her mouth shut, she pushed Michael's hand back to her abdomen and held it there. His touches were getting far too distracting and not-so-innocent.

His deep laugh reverberated in his chest and onto her back. He was clearly enjoying the control he had over her with his caresses. Not that she was objecting to it.

Skimming his lips over her nape, he asked, "You were a bit what?"

Lifting her head from where it was resting on Michael's other arm, Nikita gazed at him through the corner of her glinting brown eyes. Her lips curved upwards as she replied, "_Preoccupied_."

He smiled as he kissed her shoulder. "That's good to know."

She smirked and rolled her eyes before lying back onto his outstretched arm.

Nikita leisurely stroked Michael's arm that was on her waist. She focused and relished on how their breathings and heartbeats fell into sync at that moment. In the recent years, she had never felt so at peace with herself and her world like she was now.

Her thoughts drifted into a calm lull. After so many ups and downs that have happened, everything was finally starting to fall into their right place. Everything in her future was beginning to clear again. It's been such a long time…

Sweeping her gaze around the room, Nikita just noticed how much of a mess they've done. A couple of the training dummies were knocked down to the floor, the cabinet that held some of their emergency kits was open and missing a few stacks of blankets, clothes were scattered all over the mats, and a piece (or rather, scrap) of fabric – that suspiciously looked like her underwear before – was hanging precariously over the edge of a worktable.

Nikita had a pretty vague idea on how the things got the way they were. She really was busy last night. Mostly because she and Michael had so much time to make up for.

They probably wouldn't be able to train in this room ever again without thinking about the things that they did last night.

And oh were there a lot of things.

The smirk on Nikita's lips widened as she remembered something else. Her voice was light and a bit cheeky as she said, "Looks like we've finally done _this_ fantasy."

Michael propped up slightly to get a better look at Nikita. A frown crossed his expression as he asked, "What fantasy?"

She looked up to him. Reaching back, she cupped his face in her hand and studied him. A mischievous gleam appeared in her eyes as she doubted, "Oh, come on, never?"

He didn't answer her. The way he looked at her was proof that he didn't know what she was talking about.

Her lips stretched into a devilish grin. She moved swiftly. Turning around in his arms, Nikita pushed Michael onto his back and climbed on top of him, entangling the blankets further around them. Before he could say anything, she silenced him with a chaste kiss on his lips.

Running her hands through his hair, Nikita leaned closer and whispered breathily into his ear, "Back in Division, when you were still my mentor…" she playfully nipped his earlobe, enjoying Michael's sharp intake of breath, "all those _special _sparring sessions…" she travelled down to plant kisses along his jaw, "just the two of us…" his neck, "at night…" the base of his throat, "don't tell me.." his collarbone, "you never thought…" his chest, "of doing it there…" his abdomen, "on the mat."

She felt his breath hitch.

"I didn't think about the where," Michael admitted in a rough voice. He ran his warm, calloused hands along the curve of Nikita's back before securing it around her arms and pulling her up to his level again. Her hair fell and formed a dark curtain around them. His eyes were as dark as emeralds as he gazed at her, "I just cared about the _who_."

Nikita's lips formed a smirk just before she shifted to kiss the spot below Michael's ear. She grazed her teeth over his skin and sucked into this.

"But I promise if you keep on doing _that_," he managed to choke out, almost warningly, his gravelly voice turning huskier by the second. Curling his hands against her slender neck, he breathed heavily, "and you may just see a reenactment of that fantasy of yours."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Nikita reminded him. She laughed softly as she pulled away, winking flirtily while modestly holding a piece of the blanket close to her bare chest. Scooting down and settling herself cozily on Michael's side, a smug smirk appeared on Nikita's lips when she noticed that all the loving ministrations she did last night were still visible, along with some new ones. Kiss marks were peppered across Michael's neck and chest, making the world know that he was hers.

Hooking a leg in between his, she pressed her body to him, for warmth and a sense of security. She draped an arm across his abdomen and leaned her head by his chest. She was content on listening to his steadily-beating heart and watching the rise and fall of Michael's torso at each breath he took.

"I missed this," Nikita whispered, snuggling closer.

Turning slightly while reaching over to thread a hand through her silky hair, Michael gently pulled Nikita's face up so that he could look into her deep brown eyes. His face was so near that his breath tickled her nose and cheek. He told her, "I missed _you_."

She smiled just before his lips covered hers. Sweet, gentle, and tender. Instinctively, her arms snaked up and latched around his neck.

After a few moments though, the thought of where they were and what time it was somehow entered Nikita's mind. She uttered against Michael's lips, "We should go."

"Mm-hmm," he mumbled inattentively in reply, deepening the kiss. His hand lazily trailed down her body until it rested on her hip and squeezed it affectionately.

Nikita forgot what she was about to say. Or that she was going to a second later. Every time Michael's lips and hands were on her, that's what happens. Her thoughts scattered. Her senses got shot. _He_ was all she could feel and think about.

Luckily though, when they pulled away shortly for air, she remembered. Cupping his face in her hand, she said, "I'm serious, Michael. It's getting late. We should go."

"You're serious?" His adorable half-smile appeared, "That's a first."

She chuckled, kissing him again while pulling the blanket over their heads. Maybe just a few minutes more. In semi-darkness. It couldn't hurt, right?

Gently yet inexorably, Michael nudged Nikita onto her back. He slipped his arms under her shoulders and braced it there, to put off some of his weight. She sighed into his ear and held on to him tightly as he dragged his lips along the erogenous place at the base of her neck. His stubble deliciously scratched her tanned skin, sensitizing every bundle of nerves in her, making her bite on her lower lip at the feeling. He branded her with kisses, marking her just like what she did to him.

Guiding Michael back up to her bruised lips, Nikita arched her back to press her body closer to him. His taste, his addicting, spicy-musky scent intoxicated her until she was lightheaded. Her arms looped around his narrow waist, fingertips lightly stroking his skin, sending a shudder down his spine.

But the idea of having the blanket over them turned out to be a rather bad one. It just added to their already-feverish senses. And the way Michael was moving against her was seriously not helping. God, he was going to be the death of her.

Pulling away abruptly while removing the blanket over their heads, Michael grinned teasingly as he asked, "You were saying?"

Nikita blinked, totally lost. The sudden air that passed through them cooled down her skin, making her slightly shiver a bit. Recovering a second later, she smirked and said, "Have I ever told you you're such a tease?"

"Maybe once or twice," he remarked lightly, nuzzling her cheek.

As Michael dipped his head again and trained his lips along her collarbone, Nikita, whose half-lidded eyes clouded over in distraction and pleasure, barely managed to get the words out, "I don't wanna have to pull out a gun."

He stopped and looked at her, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

Nikita smiled lazily. "Remember the last time someone walked in on us? We all pointed guns at each other."

"_That_ was Owen's fault," Michael said, his lips twisted into a smirk as he remembered that time, "And you don't have a gun with you right now so that's not gonna happen."

She chuckled. "I could always get one by the shelf. But I don't think Alex or Nerd would appreciate it if we did the same thing to them."

"Good point," He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "But Birkhoff probably wouldn't mind. At least, he'll get to see you naked."

"Michael!" Nikita cried in mild astonishment, slapping his back.

He laughed softly, brushing his lips lightly on hers.

Nikita brought a hand to Michael's chest and pushed him away. A gleam appeared in her brown eyes as she told him, "If that's what you think, then maybe I'll just bring _Nerd_ with me to the bathtub in my room instead. I'm sure _he_ _probably wouldn't mind_."

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he pushed against her hand to try to nip at her lips. He warned her, "But _I_ would."

A chuckle escaped Nikita's lips as she allowed Michael one last kiss before they got up.

I I

"_You know, I've imagined this moment for so long._" – 2x06

I I

Nikita was still in the bathroom putting on a dark blue tee when she heard the door to her bedroom open.

Pulling on some jean shorts, Nikita noted the familiar pitter-patterof small feet stealthily padding through the other room. Overhearing the voices talking in rather hushed tones a few seconds later, she laughed inwardly. Someone definitely has to be taught how to sneak in properly.

When she was done combing through her blow-dried hair, Nikita took her time to tidy up some things around the bathroom. She was careful not to slip on the wet tiles (caused by her and Michael's exuberant recreational _activities _earlier). It was here that she made a mental note that they both really should learn how to conserve water.

And, remembering something else, to check around the corners if they were ever to sneak around the house after doing the nasty in someplace other than the bedroom.

Not really much for their sake or the other's, but for Birkhoff's. He really should be spared from seeing his friends' walk-of-shame (or even more so, any chance of walking _in _on them) after everything he's done.

"_Oh, sweet_ Jesus,_" he exclaimed in surprise, almost crashing into the pair as they rounded the corner by the kitchen after sneaking out of the training room. Birkhoff was carrying a bowl of cereal and when he suddenly halted, the almond milk sloshed over, soaking the front of his bathrobe and drenching Nikita's blanket and chest with it (though she didn't really complain much when Michael cleaned_ that _up later)._

_Noticing that his friends were only wearing the pilfered wool blankets over their naked bodies (because what was the use of wearing clothes when they still were going to take it off when they got upstairs? It was just a waste of energy), Birkhoff made a face and complained, "Know what, never mind you guys have a 5 year-old _kid_ who could be walking around here to get a glass of water right now, there's like, _ten bed_rooms in this house and you didn't even bother to get to _one_?"_

_Nikita chewed on her lower lip to stop from smiling at the embarrassment of being caught. And of Birkhoff uncommonly lecturing them so early in the morning (and why he was up at this ungodly hour was beyond her)._

_But, feeling bad at the thought that her friend probably hadn't expected seeing this unsightly scene when he woke up earlier, Nikita traipsed over to Birkhoff and gave him a reassuring, one-arm hug (as the other was still securing the wet and sticky blanket close to her body), "Sorry, Nerd. It just kinda happened."_

"_Yeah, right." He rolled his eyes. Having the decency to look away, Birkhoff squirmed under her arm and tightly pulled on the maroon terrycloth bathrobe he was wearing, "Ugh, get away from me, Nikki. You're getting Mikey's sweat and pheromones all over me."_

_The couple chuckled at that. Granting her friend's request, Nikita returned back to Michael's side. An awkward moment passed through them as they sheepishly stared at one another, not knowing what else to say. They cleared their throats and went around the other, silently vowing not to speak of this event in a long time. The pair was about to finally slink off to their original destination when their friend told them one last thing:_

"_And you guys are gonna disinfect the mats later. And whatever else your exploring hands felt up back there."_

Wiping off the fog from the mirror so she could see her reflection, Nikita couldn't help but smile when thinking of her friend. She knew he was just being his usual, brotherly, snarky self earlier. But yes, they really should learn to be a bit more considerate.

They were, after all, freeloading off of him. It was the least they could do.

Walking into the bedroom, Nikita raised an eyebrow as she immediately noticed the unnatural lump on the bed. Though it was covered by the grey-colored silk duvet, she had a pretty good idea what – or rather, who – it was beneath. Smiling at Michael, who was drinking coffee from a mug while sitting nonchalantly next to the unfamiliar mass, she asked, "Did someone come in? I thought I heard the door open."

Michael settled his mug next to the one he brought for her on the bedside table. His signature smirk appeared on his lips as he played along. "No. Just me."

"Ohh," Nikita said, strolling over. She was trying her best to keep her voice steady and not laugh, "Huh, I was sure I heard another voice earlier."

The lump of blanket visibly shook. Michael and Nikita eyed it for a second and then threw each other an amused look.

"Must be in your head," he told her, a smile tugging on his lips. "Or maybe you should get your hearing checked."

"Maybe." Nikita laughed, crawling onto the bed. Sitting at one end of the lump, she smiled playfully as her hands lightly skimmed over the raised fabric. Grabbing hold of the duvet and quickly yanking it down to reveal the person hiding underneath, she exclaimed, "Gotcha!"

Ilya, all curled up like a ball, hid her face behind the stuffed toy Dalmatian in her hands and let out a tinkling laugh at being caught.

But she had barely time to react when Nikita blew a raspberry on her abdomen and her fingers found their way at her ticklish spots. The young child squealed and writhed and tried to wriggle out of her mother's firm grasp. Her high-pitched, uncontrollable giggles echoed around the room.

Out of experience, Nikita knew that whenever Ilya would be tickled, she'd have the tendency to flail her arms and legs in an attempt to escape. She didn't have any regard who or what she may smack along the way. So it was usually better and much safer to keep bystanders and other fragile items at a safe distance.

A precaution, Nikita had unknowingly failed to mention to Michael.

So as he reached over his two girls to grab the stuffed toy and a few pillows that were about to fall off the bed, the back of one of Ilya's hands connected with his face in a loud slap.

Hearing that unmistakable sound, Nikita instantly stopped and looked up. Michael was rubbing a reddened spot just below his eye, where he was hit. Realizing her negligence, she brought her hand to her lips to hide the sheepish smile that formed there.

Raising his gaze to meet hers, Michael remarked, "Well, at least now I know our daughter has one hell of a right hand."

Chuckling softly, Nikita cupped the unaffected side of his face. "Does it hurt?"

He gave her a look and leaned in to her palm, "I'm sure I've had worse."

"Right," She smiled knowingly.

Ilya, who was still trying to catch her breath after her mother's relentless assault, just stared up to her father with innocent, bright green eyes. Her chest rose and fell as she panted. Rolling over to sit up on her heels, she faced Michael directly and said, a bit breathlessly, "Mommy always says a kiss makes the hurt go away."

An amused smile formed on Michael's lips as he looked at his daughter, then to Nikita. Leaning back on the bed's ornate wooden headboard, there was a brilliant glint in his eyes as he replied, "Oh, really? She never told me that before."

Nikita let out a soft laugh as she laid on the pillows next to Michael, giving enough space in between them for their daughter. Smoothing her hand over Ilya's light pink pajamas, she gave her an encouraging little push and said, "Why don't you give Daddy a kiss, pumpkin?"

Crawling over, Ilya happily threw her arms around Michael's neck and planted a kiss on his cheek, beneath the place she had hit him just a few moments ago. She clung to her father as she asked sweetly, "Still hurt, Daddy?"

"Hmm," Michael said, scrunching up half his face in thought, "a bit."

Ilya gave him another kiss on the cheek.

Nikita couldn't hide her proud smile at the thought that Michael really knew how deal with children.

"I don't know," he teased the young girl after her second gesture of affection, "it still kinda hurts."

Pulling away from her father, Ilya frowned adorably and drew her lips into a disappointed pout. She looked deep in thought. Turning her head abruptly to Nikita, her loose brown curls bouncing as she did so, she said, "You kiss Daddy, Mommy. Mine don't work."

A smile formed on both parents' lips.

Granting her daughter's request (and realizing what Owen meant that Ilya was definitely getting her mother's bossiness), Nikita propped up on an elbow and gave Michael a quick kiss on the cheek. She whispered to him, ''You're really enjoying milking this, aren't you?"

His bright green eyes glinted. He told her, "Jealous?"

She rolled her eyes. Snuggling down back on the pillows, Nikita watched as Michael reached over and pulled Ilya closer, toy Dalmatian in tow.

Settling their daughter in the space in between them, he kissed her forehead and said, "I'm sorry, pumpkin." Nikita chuckled, noticing that Michael had caught on with the pet name. "Daddy was just joking. Your kisses do work."

Holding the stuffed animal closely, Ilya's dimple showed as she grinned smugly.

As the child launched into vividly describing her dream last night, Nikita found herself only half-listening when the look on Michael's face had caught her attention. The beautiful smile that graced his lips, the gentle and soft expression in his green eyes… It was all so mesmerizing. There was just a certain joy in him that Nikita only saw when he dealt with children. It made her happy too.

Looking over to Ilya, she didn't know how or why their daughter woke up early and went into their room that day. But she silently hoped that it would turn into a regular habit. Because Nikita could most certainly get used to having the three of them spend most of their mornings holed-up in the bedroom and just talking, teasing, laughing…

Bonding as a family, having their moments.

When she shifted and leaned against the headboard next to Michael, Ilya clambered over to her. She wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and plopped heavily onto her stomach. Giggling as she bounced up and down.

"Oh, Ilya, you're getting heavy," Nikita gasped laughingly as she sat up when her daughter had landed on her diaphragm, effectively pushing the air out of her mother's lungs. Michael laughed at that. Moving the 5-year-old into a more comfortable and less painful position, Nikita cupped her child's angelic face and nuzzled her nose.

Ilya carried on to animatedly talking about her stuffed dog to her parents, relaying the stories and adventures she had conjured up in her imagination overnight. Michael and Nikita just listened quietly with smiles on their faces, clearly fascinated by their daughter's creative thoughts.

But having surprisingly awakened earlier than her usual time, and being continuously cradled in her parents' arms, it wasn't long before drowsiness caught up with the young child. Little by little, she was getting less energetic, less talkative, and more sleepy. By the time Ilya yawned, she nestled her head on her mother's chest and cuddled her toy closer. A few minutes later, her eyelids drooped and then she dozed off.

"She really likes to sleep, doesn't she?" Michael spoke up, after making sure that Ilya was fully off to dreamland. His green eyes gleamed as he gazed at the young girl.

"Yeah," Nikita said, careful not to make any sudden movement. She laughed softly. How her daughter can seem to sleep almost anywhere at anytime was something she could never fathom. Pushing a loose strand of brown hair behind Ilya's ear, she gently kissed the top of the child's head. "Sleepyhead."

Leaning over to Michael's side, Nikita let out a satisfied sigh. She allowed some comfortable silence to come in between them. She was contented. Everything was the way it was supposed to be, and this moment was to be forever ingrained in her memory.

Wrapping an arm around her waist a few minutes later, Michael asked quietly, "What's on your mind?"

Nikita smiled – those seem to be so easy to come by right now. But she just couldn't believe it. With Michael by her side and their daughter in her arms, she could feel her heart expanding in her chest.

She couldn't believe that she finally had what she always wanted.

A home. A family.

There were so many things Nikita would tell Michael if he had to know what really was on her mind. The smile remained on her lips as she simply settled on saying, "Mommy and Daddy – it sounds nice."

Reaching over, Michael lightly ran his fingertips along Ilya's cheek. Then he chuckled softly as he planted a kiss on Nikita's temple. Weaving his free hand with hers, he told her, "It sure does."

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><p><strong>Soooo… there you go!<strong>

**Oh, and let me just clarify one thing, the **_**implied **_**shower scene written above isn't because of what Craig Silverstein said they'll be doing in Season 3 (though I am **_**waaay**_** excited for that. Maybe a bit too much. HAHAHA!). But when I first started planning for this story, a shower scene was already included. However subtle the details turned out. Just saying… ;)**

**But anyway! How'dya all like it?**

**Okay, so yeah, this chapter ended on a sweet note… **

**Everyone really sure you want me to continue and not stop here?**

**You might not like what's coming up, you know! Gasp.**

**Write down your thoughts in the Reviews, okay?**

**Thank you in advance! And for reading, of course. **

**Stay awesome.**

**xx Dani**


	12. Chapter 11: Perfection

**I seriously come in peace.**

**I am so SO SORRY for this very late update. After my vacation I kinda injured my wrist so it was hard to type. Oh my God, I'm so sorry, you guys.**

**BUT! 200 reviews! Holy crap, I cannot thank everyone enough for the love you all are giving this story. It's just overwhelming, amazing, heartwarming, and all the other great adjectives out there. And if you're still with the story up to now, thank you so much!**

**Okay, so here we go with the update. And for those who are asking, yes, I am still continuing this story. It just took a bit of time to upload the chapter. Haha.**

**So… enjoy!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 11: Perfection<span>

"_Because it's time we had something that we all deserve – a future_." – 2x05

Domestic bliss.

It was the only way Nikita could describe everything that's happened in the recent weeks.

She had everything she could ever hope for, ever envision in her wildest imaginations.

Her days would be spent with everyone in the household. Sometimes out in the patio or by the sea shore, enjoying Owen's delicious home-cooked meals, laughing at Birkhoff's antics, dodging away (albeit cheerfully and playfully) from Alex and her picture-happy fingers, watching proudly as Ilya grew into a more happier, lovelier child before their eyes each day.

At night, Nikita would relish the sweet hours she'd get to spend with Michael alone. Often with a continuation of the stolen kisses and touches they'd make during the earlier hours. She'd sigh in content knowing that it was the face of the man she loved she'd see last at night, and the first in the morning of the next day.

Everything was perfect.

… Well, almost.

The only problem of their little girl growing up was the fact that she _was_ growing up.

Which also meant a whole lot of other things.

Nikita sighed, as if having to deal with the change in the sharing of responsibilities of raising Ilya with Michael wasn't enough.

Now things like their daughter's schooling finally had to be discussed.

Though that topic became a heated debate when it was brought up among the other adults in the household. Not only did Nikita have to adjust in her decision-making skills now that Michael was with them, but she also had put up with their friends.

It was difficult, having 5 very outspoken, overly-protective, and dangerous people who have different ideas for one child.

Sometimes, Nikita would just breathe deeply and think that raising Ilya was like having a custody battle with so many people.

Since Ilya was a pretty smart kid, they all weren't worried if she could manage school life. The whole conundrum was actually _where_.

Home-school was strongly recommended by Birkhoff and Owen.

Then again, outside teachers posed a certain danger to all of them if brought to their safe house.

"_We_ could be Ilya's teachers." Owen offered, an excited grin starting to loom over his lips.

A certain gleam appeared in almost everyone's eyes at that idea.

But, reining them all back to reality, Nikita said that she didn't think _anyone_ in the room can really qualify to be the young girl's instructors. An example of this, to prove her point, was that the 5-year-old knew a whole lot of Russian cuss words (courtesy of her Auntie Lex, thinking it would be funny surprise on Nikita's birthday) before she knew how to count to 20. Their priorities in education weren't exactly _normal_. So unless they wanted Ilya to know how to load a gun before she could learn to color within the lines of a coloring book, home-school was out of the question. Much to Birkhoff and Owen's dismay.

So as Alex went to check the list of all possible private and public schools in Barbados drawn up by Shadownet, Michael pulled Nikita to the side and suggested to her in a low voice, Max's school in London. It had excellent teachers and since half the students were children of diplomats and high-profile people, the school's security was as tight as a fortress.

Nikita wasn't sure at first, having no experience with the place. But she trusted Michael and his judgment. And if he recommended it, then it must be something worth looking into. Especially since it is for _their_ daughter.

And, she mulled about, since it was in London, Michael would be able to see Max again. So it probably was a good idea.

Unfortunately, back at the table, the others didn't share the same sentiment when they were told about it.

"You mean St. John's Prep?"

"A _prep school_?"

"But that's in _London_!"

"_Why_?"

"That's so far!"

"Are we gonna have to move _again_?"

With Alex, Owen and Birkhoff talking at the same time, it was giving Nikita a headache.

But after some more discussion involving a whole lot of bickering, sighs, and eye rolls, they all finally came to an agreement that Michael and Nikita, as _parents_, have the last say about the education of _their _daughter.

Even if Birkhoff would be the one shouldering any expenses incurred with their decision.

It was definitely an experience for Nikita though. Never having had an ideal childhood herself, she found the whole thing entertaining because it was so foreign yet so _normal_. She never thought she'd ever be faced with this situation. Hell, she never even thought of herself as a mother. Ten years ago, she probably wouldn't care as much and instead would have been debating on what kind of firearm would look best when concealed in a fitted dress. Now, she was discussing on what would be best for her child's future.

Life is just unpredictable, she thought.

Feeling a warm hand squeeze her knee affectionately under the table, Nikita glanced up at Michael. He gave her a reassuring look so she smiled appreciatively back at him.

Thinking back, Nikita realized that no matter what happened in the past, she would never change it. Maybe she and Michael were meant to be broken in a way so that they would find and piece back each other together. Because of him and his love, she was saved all those years ago, that she found the strength to go on, that she is able to have this chance now… This new life. With their daughter.

It all started with him that she was able to see what made everything so worth it.

And that no matter what, she'll always have someone to live for.

I I

"_Something's happening. And I can't let it go and I can't push it away._" – 2x08

I I

"Okay, quit it, you two. As much as I love Bonnie and Clyde finally being together, can you guys keep it down? Or, better yet, get a room?"

Nikita let out a soft chuckle as she pressed her lips against Michael's before pushing up to look over the back of the couch with a threatening glint in her eyes.

Sitting on the chaise longue by the window, Birkhoff returned his friend's gaze with a rather patronizing expression. "Oh, don't give me that look, Nikki. Even Mikey's Goatee of Intimidation doesn't work. I know you won't hurt me."

The corner of her lip twitched. "Shut up, Nerd."

"In your dreams, Nikki."

Rolling her eyes and returning to her former position, Nikita snuggled close to the other warm body that occupied quite a bigger portion of the couch. Draping her arm across Michael's taut abdomen, she whispered, "Remind me where we were again?"

He grinned before pulling her on top of him, crushing their lips together for a quick kiss. Michael threaded his hands through Nikita's long, silky hair as she laughed softly, brushing her lips and nose lightly against his strong jaw. Her slow and easy breaths caressing his warm skin.

Ignoring the soft _tap tap _on the laptop's keyboard and Birkhoff's snide comments, they both entered their own little world, just enjoying the feeling of each other. This relaxing moment was their sort of reward after such a hectic week.

They've just arrived a few days ago from London after enrolling their daughter into St. John's Prep and finding a nondescript yet decent place for the three of them to live in. As promised, Birkhoff paid for everything with no questions asked. The only request he made though, was that with the use of his private jet, they'd fly back to Barbados during the weekends (Alex also agreed on that one because she said she'd need some female bonding time if she was going to look after two males during the rest of the week).

But, honestly, they just didn't want to admit that they were going to miss Michael and Nikita, and most especially Ilya.

During their stay in their new house in London, which was just a 20-minute drive away from Cassandra and Max's, Michael and Nikita also decided to drop by to see them. Ilya quickly bonded with Max (who had turned into quite a handsome young boy), which was a relief for all parents. But interestingly enough, or so Nikita amusingly thought, Ilya didn't warm up to the other woman as fast as her bubbly self usually did. It took a few more hours (and some bribery from Michael's part) before the little girl even allowed Cassandra to pick her up.

But there seemed to be a surprising, unexpected toll on Nikita when she saw Cassandra again. Her heart ached in her chest. Especially when she was watching silently as she and Michael were talking, catching up about Max. Nikita had forgotten how painfully beautiful the other woman was, and how Michael seemed to act protectively around her.

Even though she now knew that there was nothing going on between them, and that she even thought that they have become rather 'friends' on the phone, the sight of Cassandra Ovechkin just prickled at Nikita's feelings. She couldn't help it. Seeing her brought back some memories that Nikita did not want to think about, re-opened some wounds she thought that have already healed.

Maybe it still might take a while before the sight of the Belarusian wouldn't eat at Nikita's ego anymore. Maybe it still needed some getting used to.

But, apart from that, everything else was really happening. The life she had always wanted in her grasp. Nikita sometimes had to pinch herself to believe it.

Burying her face into Michael's neck, she breathed deeply as he lazily ran a hand up and down the slender slope of her back. Their breaths and heart beats synchronized as they were stretched out against one another.

"You know I love you, right?" Michael said softly while unconsciously toying with the hem of Nikita's tank top.

"Mm-hmm," she sighed, kissing the pulse point beneath his ear. Closing her eyes, she whispered back, "And I love you too."

Somewhere in the distance, Birkhoff groaned exasperatedly, "Oh, _damn_, here we go again."

But they didn't mind him (though Nikita's lips did curve slightly upward).

Michael continued as if hearing nothing, "And you know that you could always tell me anything."

"Mm-hmm…" Nikita trailed off, getting distracted and lost in the moment.

But a second later, she tensed up slightly. Nikita knew Michael well enough to catch that nearly-indiscernible inflection in his voice. Opening her eyes, she leaned away to gaze at him. An inquisitive expression appeared on her face as she questioned suspiciously, "What're you getting at, Michael?"

He hesitated at first, making Nikita's heart skip a beat. Then he sighed and shifted under her, pulling them both to a sit.

Nikita folded her long legs under her as she stared at Michael. Holding both her hands, he gazed back at her. There was this certain gleam in his eyes, she noticed, that she wasn't sure why it was there.

"When were you going to tell me?" he asked, a hint of a smile touching his lips.

Confusion crossed her beautiful features. "Tell you what?"

He smirked, taking her perplexed reaction for feigning innocence. "There's no point hiding it from me, Nikita. I saw the kit."

For a few seconds, Nikita didn't say anything. She was racking her brain for anything that could help her but nothing came. Tilting her head to one side, she said, "What are you talking about, Michael? What kit?"

Noticing her momentary pause and her bewildered look, Michael pulled back slightly. Any trace of the emerging smile disappeared as he took in her expression. A crease formed between his eyebrows, "You honestly have no idea?"

She shook her head. Gazing at him, her brown eyes were slightly wary.

"Last night," he explained, "when I threw the trash, I saw an opened pregnancy kit. I thought –"

"Whoa there," Nikita said, straightening up. "_What_?"

"Are you pregnant?" Michael interrogated, finally getting to the question he really wanted to ask.

Anyone would have noticed the hopeful and expectant tinge coloring his voice. And the slight twinkle in his green eyes.

It took a whole second for Nikita to grasp what Michael was saying. Then she exhaled the breath she had been unconsciously holding onto and closed her eyes briefly. Shaking her head softly, she told him, "No."

"Oh," he said, his expression falling. A rueful smile flitted through his lips, as he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Uh, okay. I just… Never mind."

"Hey," Nikita squeezed the hand she was still holding, encouragingly, "_you_ could tell me anything."

"It's just…" he said, glancing into her eyes deeply. He sighed and chuckled inaudibly. "When I saw the kit, I thought you were pregnant again. I thought we were gonna have another child... I just got ahead of myself and got all excited."

Nikita got what Michael was trying to tell her. And it wrenched at her heart. She knew how he loved children. And how great of a father he was. Even if he wasn't exactly there for both Max and Ilya's younger years, he really tried his best to make up for it. So at the possibility of having another kid, Nikita knew that Michael immediately thought of it as his chance to do things right this time. Only…

"Wait, Michael," Nikita told him, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek to make him look at her. "It wasn't me."

His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

She shook her head lightly. "I didn't take any pregnancy tests."

They both stared at each other for a few seconds, taking in what it meant. Then it was Michael who broke the silence first, "Then…?"

Nikita's eyes widened, "You don't think…?"

"Alex." Michael stated softly.

"Oh my God," Nikita whispered, her lips stretching into a disbelieving smile. She touched her lips with her slender fingers. Her mind was trying to wrap around the possibility of this piece of information. Recalling something, she expressed, "That's why she asked me yesterday how it felt when I was pregnant!"

Michael stared at her for a second and then said, "And you didn't think that was odd?"

"No," she laughed, shaking her head. "She's been asking me questions like that for some time now – I-I didn't think. Oh my God, Alex is pregnant."

"Wait, wait," Michael said quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He corrected her, "We don't know that yet."

"Oh, right." Nikita let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. She chuckled. "Look who's getting ahead now."

They both smiled at each other.

"Oh, don't worry, you're not getting ahead of yourselves."

Michael and Nikita looked over the back of the couch at Birkhoff. He was still typing on the laptop, not giving any care that his best friends were staring at him.

"_What_?" Nikita asked, her eyebrows knitting for a second. "How do _you_ know?"

It took a few more seconds before they got his reply. When Birkhoff finally looked up from his laptop, he narrowed his eyes at the two people sitting by the sofa. "Who do you think was sent to buy the pregnancy tests?"

"Alex asked _you_?" Michael questioned, his voice failing miserably to hide his amusement.

Birkhoff threw Michael a dark look for stating the obvious. He then turned to Nikita and said, "She figured I had _experience_ with those kinds of stuff because I bought them last time for you, Nikki."

Ignoring the annoyed undertone simmering in his voice, an excited tug loomed on Nikita's lips, "Well?"

"I don't. And I don't like that I'm sent around like some errand boy–"

Michael clucked his tongue. "Birkhoff, straight to the point – is Alex pregnant?"

The younger man sent another glare before answering, almost reluctantly, "Uhh, yeah."

Nikita's grin finally broke through. "Really?"

"Didn't I just say that?" Birkhoff rolled his eyes.

"Someone seems to be in a bad mood today," Michael commented.

"Well, gee, forgive me for not looking like I'm ready to break out into warm fuzzies like Nikki over there," Birkhoff replied, looking pointedly at Nikita. "I'm just not appreciating the fact that babies are starting to pop up faster than Christian Bale makes his movies. It's bad enough that I have to support all of you guys and _your_ kid – do you know how much of _my _money all of you are hogging up? I never signed up to become some sugar daddy or a nursemaid, for God's sake."

Michael and Nikita glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

"Aww, Nerd." Nikita laughed, standing up and walking over to him. He was such a querulous person. But she still loved him. After everything they have all been through, it still amazed her that someone like Birkhoff existed in this world. And would be crazy enough to be their loyal friend. She ruffled up his hair and kissed the top of his head affectionately. "I might not say this all the time but thank you. For everything. Really."

"Whatever." He said, looking up to her with an apathetic expression.

"But no matter what you say, you know you'll always love us," Nikita chuckled, enjoying as she pointed out her friend's quirks. "And spend for us."

Birkhoff just grunted an unintelligible response to that and returned to what he was working on.

Nikita smiled. She stared at her friend then to Michael, who had stood up and was now casually leaning against the back of the couch. Strolling over to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face on his shoulder.

Alex was pregnant, she finally mused. Owen was going to be a father. Her friends were going to have a child of their own. Nikita had often teased them to make their own kid because they were always stealing Ilya whenever they had the chance. And now, they finally were going to have one.

Nikita still couldn't believe it. There was going to be another addition to her family. Another person to love. She found herself already loving the faceless baby she had quickly made up in her head. Her heart felt like it was already growing, making extra room.

Tears slowly began to form in her brown eyes.

"Hey," Michael said, as he felt the first few teardrops fall on his shirt. Pulling away, he curled an index finger under Nikita's chin and lifted her face to look at him, "why are you crying?"

"I'm just so happy," she laughed, wiping another stray tear that fell down her cheek. "Everything feels so surreal."

He cupped her face in his hands. "It's not. It just needs time to sink in, believe me."

Nikita sniffed.

"I guess it really is happening." She whispered, looking into his green eyes. "Alex and Owen… They're going to be great parents."

"They will be," Michael told her, kissing her forehead. He swept his thumb gently across her lower lip before he chuckled, "Just like you."

Nikita smiled. She reached up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips lightly to his. "You are too, y'know."

Pulling each other into a tighter embrace, Nikita let out a sigh and closed her eyes.

It was finally sinking in.

She couldn't explain it.

She was contented, happy… perfect.

But it was never meant to last for long.

Not when their past would finally be catching up to them.

Not when everything was about to take a turn for the worse.

Not when an assault team was preparing to attack them in a matter of minutes.

* * *

><p><strong>Soooo?<strong>

**Okay, so that wasn't much of a cliffhanger. But there's still more (and hopefully better) to come. Hahaha.**

**And Alex is pregnant. Nikita is happy-crying. I don't know, maybe it got slightly bit OOC up there. Oh well.**

**Thoughts, everyone? Let me know in the Reviews!**

**Things really are about to take a turn.**

**Hopefully, I'll be able to finish the next chapter really soon. I need inspiration. October 19 please come _fast_.  
><strong>

**Oh, and thank you for reading!**

**xx Dani**


	13. Chapter 12: Right Moment

**Hey everyone!**

**SO sorry for this delayed update! I was supposed to post this way before season 3 started but real life just got a bit… real. Ack.**

**But anyway! Wow, the reviews… Oh man. I still can't believe it. Thank you everyone. You guys are the best! Everyone's such an inspiration.**

**Okay, so here we go with the update! I really hope you won't be disappointed. It's a little bit shorter than other chapters because as I was writing towards the point where I intended to stop, it was getting really long so I had to cut it somewhere. Sorry! But I'll make it up in the next chapter. ;)**

**And read on! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 12: Right Moment<span>

"_I wouldn't want to wait for the right moment. 'Cause that's when it happens, a threat you don't see coming._" – 2x02

Nikita couldn't take it anymore.

Bouncing her long legs up and down the tiled floor, she kept on looking at the clock every few minutes or so.

"Calm down, Nikita," Michael said, placing a firm, restraining hand on her knee. "They'll be home soon."

That's what she kept on telling herself.

But her excitement and happiness were just too much to be bundled up. She hadn't been as excited as this since… Well, she couldn't remember anymore.

Giving a glance to Michael, who was sitting beside her on the couch, Nikita couldn't comprehend how he could just sit there so calmly and wait patiently. Then she thought that they probably just differed in reacting to news that their friend – almost sister to her – is pregnant.

She glanced at the clock again. It was a few seconds past 5:51 PM. They were all usually home around that time. But then Nikita remembered that this was going to be the last time Alex and Owen would be able to spend the afternoon out with Ilya before the young girl and her parents would be leaving for London the day after next. So it was probably excusable that they were running a _little _late.

Too bad it was frazzling Nikita's patience.

Trying to divert her attention, she thought of her friends. But it just heightened her excitement even more. Alex and Owen were going to have a _baby_. She and Michael were going to have an adorable little niece or a nephew (or in Birkhoff's case, another mouth to feed). And Ilya was going to get a sort-of-younger-sibling.

Nikita took a deep breath. She was getting _way _ahead of herself right now.

But personally, she wanted her friends to have a boy. That would be fun. He'd have Alex's blue eyes and Owen's sandy blonde hair… Oh, he was going to be cute.

But if they were to have a girl…

Nikita couldn't think anymore. She chuckled softly at her silly giddiness.

She checked the clock – 5:55 PM. Nikita groaned and threw her head back on the couch. Rolling over to her side, she brought her legs up and curled against Michael. He instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Just relax," Michael whispered near her ear, trying to soothe her.

"I _am _relaxed_." _Nikita muttered back, leaning her forehead against his shoulder.

He laughed before saying, "Remember when we were on that op in Murmansk? We had to sit in that truck for seven hours in the dead of winter..."

"Yeah. So?"

"We made it through the wait then. I'm sure you could hold out a few more minutes."

"This is different," she replied, sullenly. But a smile tugged on her lips as she thought about that mission. Looking up to him, she said, "I remember I kept on annoying you by saying how we'd all probably die from hypothermia first before we'd go live with the op... But now I think about it, I don't recall hearing _you_ complain at that time, _Misha_."

A smirk formed on Michael's lips when he heard her say his cover name for that mission. Misha the arms dealer. It was such a long time ago and she still remembered. Well, Nikita always did seem to remember a lot of things when it came to him.

Michael planted a soft kiss on her forehead. A certain glint appeared in his green eyes as he told her lightly, "It was you and me in the van. What was there to complain about?"

Nikita rolled her eyes. Michael didn't need to remind her of the other parts of that mission. Like the fact that they were also so uncomfortably cramped in that cargo truck because of the huge boxes of firearms they had brought with them as part of their cover. And that Kelly was with them too, albeit silent and incredibly sulky that freezing night. And all the shivering and teeth chattering…

Not exactly fun and pleasant memories.

Oh the things they did before…

But past was past.

Nikita was looking forward to the future right now. And that future entailed talking to Alex.

Replacing her head on Michael's shoulder, Nikita gazed at the wall clock again.

5:59 PM.

She sighed in annoyance.

"I can't take this anymore," Nikita suddenly announced, standing up. Waiting was never one of Nikita's favorite past times.

She heard Michael laugh softly just before she went out the front door and onto the porch. She'd have a perfect view of the Range Rover approaching here. Sitting down on her usual spot on the steps, she gazed out.

It was already surprisingly dark that early evening. Black and grey clouds replaced the normally colorful Caribbean skyline. A chilly and humid breeze kept blowing through, making the palm trees dance and sway all around. The atmosphere had a damp feeling. There was a a flash in the distant horizon, lighting up the clouds briefly. The imminent threat of rain hung heavy in the air, almost waiting for the right moment to fall.

Save for the _whoosh_ing sound of the wind and the rustling of leaves, everything else seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet.

Too quiet.

It was almost an eerie thing. Like an omen to some bad horror movie.

But Nikita just shrugged it off with a sigh and instead wished that her family would be home before the downpour started.

A few more minutes and no sign of the car, Nikita got frustrated with the wait. She was starting to get a bit worried too. And she was about to burst with giddiness and no one seemed as excited as she was.

Definitely not a good combination.

Whipping out her cellphone, she hurriedly dialed Alex's number and tapped her foot while waiting for the younger woman to pick up.

Alex answered after the third ring. "_Hey, Nikita_. _What's up_?"

"Hey," she said, smiling. _Finally_. "Where are you?"

"_Passing through Long Bay. Sorry, got a little carried away_," Alex answered, her voice apologetic for being late. "_We'll be home in fifteen minutes, tops_. _Anything you need_?"

"Yes – you. I need an explanation."

"_What_?"

Nikita paused. She remembered that Owen was next to her, driving the car. So she had to pick her question carefully in case he didn't know about the news yet. But Nikita's fervor got the best of her and her question just barreled out of her mouth, making her voice rise an octave, "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"

There was silence.

Then a soft _thud_, as Alex dropped her cellphone, probably in surprise. There was a scuffle of movements heard as she tried to retrieve it from wherever it fell. All the while, Ilya's voice saying 'Hi, Mommy!' in the background filled in the gap – Nikita chuckled at that one.

"_Sorry about that._" Alex apologized when she talked into the phone again. She continued, though her voice was considerably lower and had a huffy undertone to it, "_Birkhoff _told_ you_?"

"So it's true?"

There was a soft sigh heard through the earpiece. "_Umm, yeah_."

"Oh my God." Nikita whispered, grinning. "Alex, I'm so happy for you!"

"_I know._" There was some strain in her voice as she tried to keep her voice steady. But Nikita could already detect the happiness and giddiness (finally, someone who shared the same emotions as she did) waiting to bubble over. She was sure that it will fully unleash when Alex got home and they had a chance to really talk – privately.

"But I'm still hurt that you didn't tell me first." Nikita tried to feign being miffed but failed. So she chuckled. "I had to learn about the news from _Nerd_."

"_You've been busy lately_."Alex laughed softly too. "_Oh, but remind me to strangle him when we get home._"

"He actually didn't say anything." Nikita clarified, coming to her other friend's defense. Gazing into the open driveway and front yard, she explained to younger woman, "You got sloppy hiding the evidence – Michael saw the kit. Nerd just… _confirmed_ our suspicions. Anyway, when were you exactly planning to break this news to us?"

"_I honestly did not know._"

"I hope you weren't stalling until Michael, Ilya and I were already back in London before you'd say anything," she teased.

"_You never know._" Alex chuckled. "_Maybe_."

"Does Owen know you're pregnant?"

"_Umm… Haven't gotten around _there_ yet._"

"Oh," Nikita said. It was a good thing she picked the right questions then.

She had just sat down on the porch steps when she heard Birkhoff exclaim something from inside the house. But it was unintelligible to her so she brushed it off. It was probably just one of his celebrations of victory in the online game he was playing anyway. Shaking her head lightly, Nikita resumed her conversation with Alex, "Waiting for the right moment?"

"_I think so_. _Yeah_."

She smirked. It was now her time to give Alex advice. "Just don't wait too long–"

Nikita stopped.

A sudden, ill-feeling had gripped her. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Her heart began to race for some unknown, foreboding reason. Dread bubbled in the pit of her stomach.

Something was not right.

Standing up and going down the porch, Nikita swept her gaze around the area to look for something out of the ordinary. There were none. But the dark sky had caused more shadows to be casted than usual, making her unsure.

But there didn't seem to be any movements along the dense clump of palm trees. The breeze even seemed to stop. Everything was silent and still.

Too silent. Too still.

_Maybe you're just being paranoid_, Nikita tried to reason.

But it was there. It was different.

She could _feel _it. Somehow.

And her instincts have yet to prove her wrong.

Briefly remembering she had tucked a gun on the waistband of her jeans that day, Nikita felt for it just to be sure…

Only to realize that it was Ilya's toy gun. She picked it up earlier when her daughter left it lying around, and just instinctively placed it behind her back like she usually did with a real one.

Shit.

"_Nikita_?" Alex asked, her voice sounding worried.

"Alex," she quickly answered, barely realizing that she was still holding her cellphone near her ear. Nikita didn't like this. Her sixth sense was screaming that something was about to happen. Running back to the house to get a real gun and warn the others, she barked into the receiver, "Don't come home! I'll call you–!"

Something silver glinted by the palm trees to Nikita's right.

The first drops of rain had started to fall.

She kept running, fueled by the self-preservation instincts and adrenaline that had already pumped through her veins.

It was an ambush.

"Nikita, get _inside_!"

Her steps wavered and hesitated for a split-second.

Michael…

He was panicked.

Scared.

For her.

But he was too late.

The first bullet had already been shot.

And Nikita wasn't fast enough.

Bright, crimson blood splattered across the wall.

* * *

><p><strong>Eeep! Cliffhanger!<strong>

**Told you there'd be more. :D**

**Anyway, so how'd it go?**

**Tell me! Post a Review!**

**Oh, I am so gonna enjoy reading all your thoughts and reactions. :]**

**And one last thing before I end this A/N… it's sort of spoiler-y though. I think. Somehow. It will give you ideas on where this story is headed. Haha.**

**I totally wish this site would allow us to add more genres to the listing of a story. Make it a maximum of 3-4 instead of 2. That way, I'd list this one as Drama/Family/Tragedy/Angst.**

**I'll give you guys a second to let it all sink in…**

**O_O!**

'**Til the next chapter then!**

**xx Dani**

**PS: How was that last episode? OHMYGOD. The suspense, action, everything! And, ohhh that Salex moment (almost made me want to forgive Sean for being a jerk in the early parts)! Too bad we have to wait a few more weeks for the new ep. Sucks... But, you just gotta love this show. :)  
><strong>


	14. Chapter 13: Coup De Main

**Happy New Year everyone! :)**

**Okay, so this update took a bit longer than usual. Sorry about that. I know I told some of you that I was gonna post this last December. But things just got hectic with the holidays and all that. So, yeah. Again, sorry.**

**Reviewers, readers, as always, you have my gratitude.**

**And here we go! The continuation to that awful cliffie I left in the previous chapter. Haha! ;)**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><span>Chapter 13: Coup de Main<span>

"_There's nowhere we can go where Division won't find us_." – 2x01

Nikita gasped. A mixture of surprise and pain.

Her steps faltered, making her lose footing on one of the porch steps.

Clutching her wounded arm, Nikita leaned heavily on the railings to break her fall. Seeking the protection of the panels of ballistic glass set in between the balustrade, she crouched down – just in time when a bullet shot through the space where her head had been a split second earlier.

"Michael!" She called out. But her voice was drowned out by the sudden hundreds of continuous gunshots all around and the loud patter of rain on the roof.

She pulled in her legs closer.

Her heart was ringing in her ears.

The pain in her shoulder was radiating throughout her chest and arm.

No. _This can't be happening_.

Peering through between the rails, Nikita saw multiple muzzle flashes in the distance. The people firing at them were hiding in the shadows casted by the palm trees. She counted around 10. And by the sound of it, all with semi-automatic firearms.

The stream of bullets flew all around her. Smashing pots and vases, piercing the outdoor chairs and walls with holes, cracking the glass panels she was using as a shield. Cracking, but not breaking. But it wouldn't take long for it to give in to the assault.

She couldn't stay here.

Shouts were heard from inside the house. It intensified the panic and anxiety Nikita felt.

Michael and Birkhoff.

No. They can't be hurt.

They had to be safe. She had to know.

She glanced to the open front door. It was too far for her to reach it. She'd have another bullet through her if she made a run for it.

And she didn't even have a single weapon with her. Damn.

6 years had made her complacent and naive.

The glass panel a few feet away from her broke, finally surrendering to the abusive bombardment. It splintered into tiny glittering pieces across the porch. A second later, another one gave way. And then another. Nikita was running out of protection.

The glass pane next to her gave a definite snap.

Time to go.

Taking a deep breath, she dove for the nearest furniture, overturning a coffee table to its side as she did so. She slid down, almost lying flat on her stomach on the floor. She thought of a silent prayer of thanks, remembering that this particular wooden furniture had a reinforced-metal underside. At least this shield was a bit sturdier and can receive more damage than her last one.

And the merciless barrage continued on.

More of the glass panels broke. Most of its jagged pieces had scattered all over the patio. Broken debris and bullets were flying past her.

There had to be a way out somehow.

There just had to be.

Nikita glanced at the front door again. Still no one. She shouted Michael's name once more. But she didn't hear any reply. The combined crashes of falling rain and whizzing bullets prevented her from hearing anything else besides her own labored breathing.

And then the sound of more gunshots echoed from within the house.

For a split second, Nikita couldn't breathe. Fear and dread paralyzed her. Her heart was in her throat.

"Michael…" His name escaped her lips.

Nikita pushed up, ignoring the pain that shot from her arm. She winced. The fast throbbing from her shoulder had been pushed to the back of her mind at that moment though. She had to focus on getting to the others first. Her injury was non-life-threatening anyway. Or at least, she was hoping it wasn't. But the only thing that was bothering her was that her wound was constricting her chest. It was becoming painful to breathe. And her left arm was warm and dripping with blood.

"_Nikita_!"

"Michael!" She shouted back almost instantly. Giving a sideward glance, relief washed over her when she saw Michael crouch behind the main door frame inside the house. Birkhoff was just behind him, covering his six.

She closed her eyes briefly. They were safe. Unscathed. Unhurt.

But when she looked back at Michael, she saw the fear that clouded over his face as he took in her condition. She caught his flaring protectiveness and the beginnings of a reckless and impulsive decision almost instantly.

"I'm _fine_!" She cried at him, over the resounding bangs of firing guns. She really was, her wound just looked worse than it really is. She'll live. Hopefully. But she had to stop Michael before he'd do something stupid.

Michael blinked and pulled back slightly, taking her word for it. He reached behind him and then slid a pistol on the floor towards her. But the rubble on the patio surface hindered the gun from fully reaching Nikita. It stopped just about a few feet away from her. She would still need to stick her arm out into the open to get the weapon.

Nikita threw Michael a dark look.

One of the edges of the table was hit, blasting it into splintered fragments. But they all managed to duck in time.

Too close.

At that moment, Nikita took a chance and stretched her good arm to reach for the gun.

But as she almost caught it, a random, well-placed shot blew it out of her grasp.

She withdrew her arm almost instantly, securing her hand to her chest. Thankfully, all her fingers still seem to be intact. Glancing back, she saw that the firearm flew just far enough for it to become useless to anyone.

_Great_.

Michael shouted something but Nikita couldn't hear it through the mixing noises of rain, gunshots, and breaking glass.

"_What_?"

"Get_ down_!"

Nikita had just managed to draw in her body closer when she saw Michael step out and fire 2 rocket-propelled grenades into the front yard.

He barely had time to get behind the door frame when the explosion erupted.

Nikita had to grip the table as the force of the shock wave pushed it roughly against her. A tremor rumbled through the ground, sending a violent shake across the patio.

The blast was so near. And so loud, muffling the shouts of the assault team in the area.

A rather large piece of shrapnel whirred through the air and lodged itself cleanly into the wall, just a few inches from the doorframe.

Extremely too close.

The smell of rain, gunpowder, and dirt permeated through the air. Smoke, soot, and dust were everywhere, making Nikita's eyes prickle. She also involuntarily inhaled some of it, making her cough.

"Nikita?" She heard amidst the chaos, "Nikita, are you okay?"

But she couldn't answer, she was still coughing. The dust had really done a number to her throat. It was itching horribly.

Everything around them was a bit foggy, the blast having created a powdery blanket over them.

Hearing the hurried steps and feeling Michael's familiar arm wrapping around her waist, Nikita didn't protest when he pulled her up. Half-walking, half-dragging, they both made it into the safety of the house. She heard Birkhoff slam the front door behind them and locked the bolts in place to secure it shut.

Well, whatever secure meant right now.

"What the_ hell _just happened?" Nikita demanded in a hoarse voice, the moment her coughing had subsided.

But her question was left ignored as Michael pulled her into the living room. He made her sit on an ottoman and, after making sure that she was stable enough to be left for a few minutes, handed her a pistol. When he turned around though, Nikita tucked the gun in the waistband of her jeans and reached for a better replacement from where she had secretly hidden one under of the sofa.

Walking over to one of the windows, Michael peered behind the Kevlar blinds and requested, "Birkhoff, status."

"Multispectral analysis still going – damnit, hurry up, will you?" Birkhoff, lightly gashed in the face and soot-covered, said. He was tapping his computer tablet a bit more forceful than usual. He had followed them into the living room, kicking pieces of broken furniture along the way. "Gotcha. Four down, six… are falling back to whatever hellhole they came from."

"It was Division," Michael commented.

"Yeah, I think we got that when they almost killed us all," Birkhoff mumbled, earning a sideward glance from Nikita.

"I thought you had a security perimeter," she hissed. Her brown eyes bore into her friend's light ones.

"There is. But they somehow managed to jam it," Birkhoff told her, curtly. His knuckles were white from where he was clutching his tablet. "It was a good thing that I also run a thermal scan in our area every hour."

"You said the security in this house was foolproof!" Nikita spat.

"Some–!"

"Enough." Michael interrupted, glaring at Nikita and Birkhoff. Turning back, he closed the Kevlar blinds, satisfied with his sweep of the surroundings. After offering another quick look to the two, he then left and opened one of the side table drawers that held a medical kit.

They watched as Michael grabbed a table lamp and cleared out a desk from all debris in one sweep of his arm. He took out the contents of the first aid kit and laid it out onto his make-shift operating table. Pulling up a barstool, he silently motioned Nikita to come over.

"How did they find us?" She asked, her mind still reeling. When she went to sit down, Michael had immediately started to cut up her gray shirt and peeled it off to get a better look at her wound. It made Nikita flinch.

Now that her adrenaline rush was dropping, the muscles in her chest were relaxing and she was beginning to breathe more easily. The only downside was that the pain in her shoulder was escalating from just a nagging throb.

"I don't know. It's anyone's guess," Michael said, distractedly. Snapping a surgical glove in place, he injected a local anesthetic directly into Nikita's wound, making her wince some more. He then pressed a gauze on her shoulder to staunch the bleeding. Out of experience, he acted fast, almost mechanically. As Michael lightly prodded into her wound, he whispered, "There aren't any nicked arteries or veins, but… damn."

"What?"

"They used frangible rounds."

Nikita closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She already had a feeling it was. This was going to hurt.

Though somehow, it inappropriately brought back an odd sense of déjà vu.

"Nikita, I'm going to take one out, okay?"

She gripped the handle of her gun tightly in anticipation. But she still gasped slightly and cringed when Michael carefully removed a fragment near the surface of her skin. It sent a stinging, shooting pain even with the anesthetic.

"Uhh, hate to break it to you guys," Birkhoff said, as he came up to them. He made a face when he saw the bloody, metal shard Michael dropped into the kidney-shaped basin. It was the size of half a fingernail. In frangible rounds, that was usually the biggest anyone could hope to get. "But we're not safe here. They could still come back, y'know."

"Nikita's injured," Michael said simply, not even looking up.

"I'm not blind." Birkhoff retorted. "And again, we're not safe here."

"I have to finish this."

"Finish it in the other safe house then!" Birkhoff cried out suddenly, surprising Nikita a bit. She stared at him. He was still clearly shaken up, pacing around the room like a tense person with high self-preservation instincts as he did would've had. There wasn't going to be much that would not set him off. He ranted on, "Nikki can survive the travel up to there. If Division comes back, we're all screw–"

"I don't think they'll come back." Nikita tried to reassure him, shaking her head.

Birkhoff stopped pacing and fixed his gaze on her. He then let out a derisive laugh. "Oh, right. Just because you _think_ so already means that they won't. That was _Division _just outside our doorstep, Nikki. They don't know the meaning of giving up. For all we know they could have just called for back-up and then'll launch Round Two! And you're _hit _–!"

"You think I don't know that?" Nikita exclaimed back, getting riled up. Their conversation was turning into a continuation of their tense exchange just moments ago. She was hurt, she needed to think, and Birkhoff's comments weren't exactly helping.

"So we're just gonna stay here? Wait until Dr. Mikey patches you up?" He narrowed his eyes at her. Fear and annoyance evident in them. Pointing around the living room, he exclaimed, "Division already knows where we are, we have to move. As in _now_! We just can't sit around like some ducks in a shooting gallery!"

"_Calm down_, will you?" Nikita snapped.

"Calm down?" Birkhoff echoed. He let out an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Staring back at Nikita, he looked like he wanted to shake her, try to knock some sense into her. But he stopped himself from doing that because of the sharp glint in her brown eyes. Instead, he rebuked, "Are you _listening _to yourself, Nikki? Do you need to be reminded about situational awareness?"

"Oh, so you're gonna lecture me now? I was –!" Nikita gasped sharply. She had moved, causing Michael to miss one of the bullet pieces and pinching her broken flesh with the forceps instead.

Michael cursed under his breath. He demanded, "You two, _back off_ each other! It's not helping anyone."

Nikita and Birkhoff glared at each other for a moment before sullenly looking away into different directions. The stress of what just happened definitely taking its toll on them.

The whole living room went completely quiet. The sound of the downpour outside engulfed the silence that ensued inside the house.

Nikita ignored the throb in her shoulder as Michael resumed poking into it, searching for the fragments he could find. She could have requested for more anesthetic, because the effects of the first shot were already starting to wear off, but she was too miffed to ask. She'd rather endure the pain quietly right now, gripping her gun if it got too painful.

But something else was bothering Nikita. Birkhoff was right: a Division strike team rarely retreated. Kill the target or be killed in the process. It was always like that. And the assault team clearly had the upper hand earlier because the three of them were trapped in a compromising position. The team could have easily raided the house and killed everyone in it.

But they didn't.

Nikita couldn't understand why.

She glanced around the living room. It was dim, save for the light from table lamp behind her. Scattered across the floor, broken crystals reflected the light, making them sparkle like tiny diamonds. There wasn't much damage in this room though. Only a sofa, a computer screen, and a portion leading to the kitchen were riddled with bullet holes, most likely because the ballistic panel broke before the Kevlar blinds managed to roll down.

But still, everything looked better than Nikita could have ever imagined after an assault from Division. Especially when they were the targets.

It was a miracle that no one was seriously hurt.

But it was still odd. Nikita couldn't shake that feeling that there was something else.

And Birkhoff was also right about another thing: they couldn't stay here. Division already knew where they were. They were vulnerable. They had to leave.

Nikita let out a sigh as Michael took out another piece from her shoulder.

With her free hand, she reached around her pockets to search for her phone. When she didn't find it, she realized that she may have dropped it during the commotion outside.

Turning back to face Birkhoff, Nikita's expression was rueful, and apologetic. She asked him, "Can you call Alex?"

The younger man glared at her for a moment, surprised at her change of tone. He then rolled his eyes. Tapping into his tablet, he mumbled, "Fine. Like I could ever get an apology or a 'please and thank you' from you."

But Nikita pretended that she didn't hear anything.

Her heart had begun to pick up pace again, only this time for another reason: Ilya. Her focus had shifted to hearing her daughter's voice. To actually hear that she was safe.

At that moment, for once, Nikita was thankful that Division had the perfect timing to attack them while Ilya was out. Though a certain terror had gripped her heart thinking that her daughter could have easily been here, Nikita pushed it away. She had to remind herself that it didn't happen and she didn't need to add anymore unnecessary stress.

Ilya was not with them right now. She was safe with Alex and Owen.

She was safe. That's all that mattered.

"_Nikita_?" Alex's voice spoke through the still-working speakers around the living room. She sounded worried. "_You there? What's going on_?"

"Alex, we were attacked." Nikita spoke aloud. "Division."

"_Oh my God, what? How did they know_?" Now she really sounded worried, "_Is anyone hurt_?"

"We don't know. But I got hit. Nothing serious though," she reassured her. "Where are you now?"

"_You said not to come home so we took a turn and headed for the safehouse in Standford. But we could go back –"_

"No, stay on your route." Nikita said, shaking her head even though Alex wouldn't see it. She closed her eyes briefly as she tried to map out a plan. "We'll meet you guys there in an hour and we'll regroup."

"_Right_. _Copy that. Are you sure you're okay_?"

"I'm fine. I just…" Nikita ran a hand through her hair and bit on her lower lip as Michael pulled on a rather painful piece from her shoulder, "Can I talk to Ilya?"

"_Sure. Here, I – _Owen!"

The squealing of tires, protesting at the sudden application of brakes was heard over the speakers. There was a roar of an engine that kept on getting louder. Then there was an ear-splitting crash and the harsh, grating sound of metal being bent against its will.

"Alex? _Alex_!" Nikita yelled, panicked.

Michael and Birkhoff had stopped what they were doing, alarmed and shocked at what they were hearing.

But there was no answer.

Shouts were heard over the loud clashes, the shattering of glass, and the continuous rumbles of metal against metal being forcibly mashed against each other.

Nikita's heart stopped as she picked out her own daughter's terrified scream.

After almost an eternity, it stopped.

"_Alex_?" Nikita cried out, half-crazed with fear and worry. "_Ilya_? _Owen_?"

Still no answer.

Not even a breath.

And then, out of nowhere, an unfamiliar voice in the distance spoke. His words were caught and filtered in through the speakers.

"Targets down."

* * *

><p><strong>And from one cliffhanger to another. This is so mean.<strong>

**Comments, thoughts, rants, curses? L****eave a Review down below!**

**What else? Hmm… I don't know. Haha! Oh, I'll try my best to update as fast as I can, okay? Though sometimes it may be a bit slow but I'll definitely update. :]**

**Anyway, I hope everyone had wonderful holidays!**

**... And Nikita's back on next week! Woo hoo! Exciting!**

**Everyone, especially those who live in the US, gather everyone to watch! A new year means the time to rally support for the show to have a Season 4 is upon us again! Let's do this!  
><strong>

**xx Dani**


	15. Chapter 14: Deception

**I AM SOOO SORRY!**

**Okay, I know this chapter is WAAAY past its overdue date. So if any of you hate me (even if it's just a tiny bit), I understand. I'd hate myself too. But things have just been crazy for me so I haven't had much time to sit down and write. **

**But for everyone who's still sticking this out with me, my lovely Reviewers, and to those who PM reminding me to update, oh gosh, you people are just so amazing. Thank you so much for your patience and for your time! If I could send you all gifts, chocolates, and cookies, I would.**

**So anyway, really hope this chapter makes it up to everyone, even in a small way.**

**Enjoy reading!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 14: Deception<span>

"_Do you have any idea how I would feel if I lost you_?" – 2x07

Nikita didn't know what to feel.

_No_…

Her head couldn't wrap around what just happened. She still couldn't get over it…

How could she not have known?

How could she not have seen it?

They were just a diversion.

That unsettling feeling that something was not right. Why the Division strike team didn't kill _them_…

it wasn't their orders in the first place.

They weren't the targets.

Owen, Alex, and Ilya were.

Ilya…

_No…_

Nikita could still hear her daughter's terrified scream echoing in her ears.

'Targets down' the agent had said.

How many times had she said those words too? Never had that phrase meant so much to her. Never had she imagined the feeling of hearing the other side, the devastating end of it.

_No_…

_They're not… They can't be_…

When she felt Michael pull her towards his chest and held her tightly, it was only then Nikita realized how hollow she felt. And that she was shaking and tears were streaming down her face. Everything was so out of sync that she didn't know what to the hell was going on anymore.

_Targets down… Ilya, Alex, Owen… Ilya…_

"Nikita," Michael said. His voice didn't hide the feelings that he felt. He cupped her face in both his hands and made her look up to him. His emerald green eyes were intense and glassy with unshed tears. He shook his head and begged her, "No, Nikita, don't. _Don't go there_."

Her response was only a burble of incoherent words and tears.

"Nikki."

An almost unfamiliar hand gently pressed against the small of her back. She jerked slightly in surprise. She had already forgotten that Birkhoff was there too. In fact, she had forgotten a lot of things at that moment.

She glanced sideways at him. He looked disheveled as he wiped away the wetness that had formed around his eyes. A part of her disjointed mind became more confused as to why Birkhoff was crying.

_No…_

Nikita was about to escalate into hysterics if not for the next words out of Birkhoff's mouth were:

"I think they're still alive."

Michael's arms around her tightened.

Her mind and heart reeled.

"What?" Nikita breathed.

"All three of them, they're still alive. I think." Birkhoff repeated, a half-smile of relief appeared on his face as he shakily tapped into his computer tablet. He rambled, "I remembered that I in-installed a camera on the rear v-view mirror in the car awhile b-back and it was capable of real-time feed so I checked it and I-I – here."

He turned the gadget towards them and gave it to Michael.

The crash had done a number on the camera. Almost half of the view had turned black and the remaining part had become somewhat hazy. But from what they could see, Ilya was leaning to one side of her car seat, still unconscious, blood dripping from a small gash on her forehead. Nikita could feel her heart hammer against her chest at that sight. What she wouldn't give to exchange places with her daughter at that moment.

Owen was out of the camera's view so they couldn't see how he was doing. They could only hope for the best.

But Alex had already, though slowly, regained consciousness.

Nikita bit down on the bottom of her lip as her breath got caught in her throat. Another bout of fear and anxiety bubbling just beneath her surface.

Lolling her head to the side, Alex reached up to push away some of the hair that had fallen over her face, wincing a bit as she did so. Feeling that she seemed okay despite that spots on her blue shirt had turned a deep shade of violet, she looked up and stretched her hand out to the driver's side, presumably to check on Owen's pulse or trying to wake him up.

But somehow, the knowledge of her friends' well-being was a secondary concern to Nikita right now. She almost wanted to plead aloud at Alex to hurry up and check on Ilya but she remembered that it was only a recording. And then guilt flooded through her as she realized that she placed her child's welfare above her friends'. And when she realized that Alex was also pregnant, it just made her feel even worse.

But it was Ilya. She was her _daughter_.

No matter what, Nikita would always put Ilya's life first. Even before her own.

So as Alex reached to the back and checked for the 5-year-old's pulse on her wrist, Nikita instinctively leaned in closer to the computer tablet in anticipation. After making sure that everyone else was alive, a visible sigh of relief escaped Alex's lips.

Nikita also exhaled the breath she had been holding. A small sliver of ease washed over her. They were alive. Birkhoff had a hunch that they were but it was different from actually seeing it. Her daughter, her friends, her family. They were alive. She closed her eyes briefly and let a few tears escape.

But the few moments of respite had made her temporarily forget about the threat.

As she opened her eyes, that terror came back in full force.

The door to Alex's side had been wrenched open and she was now fighting off a pair of Division agents that were trying to restrain her. But her seatbelt limited her movement. She was losing fast, almost getting weaker by the second. After receiving a blow to her jaw, knocking her to the side of her seat, the reason became visible: Alex had been shot with a tranquilizer dart on the neck.

After making sure she was fully passed out, a couple of more hands reached in and dragged the unconscious passengers out of the car and into the rain.

A chilling sensation ran down Nikita's spine when she saw that Ilya had the same red dart stuck on her arm.

But when she caught a glimpse of the person who carried Ilya out, Nikita's stomach gave an almighty lurch. She didn't know if she was going to retch and tremble in fear or to cry out and lash in anger and desperation.

Roan had her daughter.

_No… Don't…_

A few seconds after the car had been cleared, a remote charge that was placed by one of the agents on the backseat was activated – blowing up the vehicle, destroying evidence, and effectively cutting off the video feed in the process.

Staring into the black screen, Nikita couldn't seem to take her eyes away from it. She was breathing heavily, like the air in her lungs had just disappeared. Everything seemed like an out-of-body experience.

"They're still alive." Birkhoff stated again, in a much lower and bleak voice. It was like he couldn't get past that. He shuffled a bit, before sinking into the nearest chair and burying his face into his hands.

Nikita still continued to gaze at the computer tablet, even though there was nothing more to see in it. Her mind was still trying to make sense of it all.

_Why… Why Ilya?_

_Why not _her_ instead?_

Setting the tablet on a side table, Michael looked lost just as much as she was. He said, almost in an empty voice, "Division has them."

_Division… Division had her family… Her daughter..._

Just like that, that thought got the gears in Nikita's head turning. She had to do something. And fast. Division can't win. Not anymore. She had been running for too long. It had to stop once and for all.

And they have just given her the greatest motivation she will ever need.

Anger replaced her despair. Fortitude against hopelessness. A new wave of adrenaline coursed through her veins.

"Not for long." She declared, making Michael and Birkhoff look at her. She stared back at them, determination clear in her brown eyes.

If Division wanted a fight, they were going to get it. The stakes were higher for her than ever but it didn't matter.

She _will_ get her family back.

No matter what it takes.

Her change in attitude had affected Michael. He gave her a small nod. Her resoluteness and willpower was contagious.

"Birkhoff," He said, his voice crisp and clear. The stern tone was familiar. It was the same one he used when he was focused on a mission. And this particular one was just as important to him as it was to Nikita. He ordered, "Get us the location."

Doing as he was told, Birkhoff got up his seat and scrambled to fire up the remaining usable computers.

Seeing that the other two had found something to do, Nikita decided to prepare as well. She strode across the living room, heading for the armory. Time was of the essence. A list of weapons she was going to need was already forming in her mind.

But just as she stepped into the kitchen, she heard Birkhoff's nervous voice say, "I-I can't find them."

She stopped and turned around.

"_What_?" Michael's voice rose, "What do you mean you can't find them? The car had a GPS – get its last known loca–"

"Check Ilya's trackers," Nikita interrupted, returning into living room. She crossed her arms against her chest, hiding her clenched fists. She was already high-strung as of the moment, and she desperately needed to concentrate for the mission.

And with her patience wearing very thin, adding more to her edginess was seriously not a good idea.

Now was definitely not a good time for things not to go her way.

"You think I didn't try that?" Birkhoff told her. His eyes never left the screen as his fingers typed rapidly over the keyboard. He murmured, "Someone must've jammed the signal."

"Then un-jam it!" Nikita snapped, her tone sounding harsher than she intended. She almost felt sorry and guilty when Birkhoff flinched but his abrupt and curt tone had irked her more than usual. He'll understand. "What's the use of having multiple trackers if we can't use them?"

"Birkhoff –", Michael started to say.

"I'm trying! _I'm trying_! Chill!" he said, lifting a hand to stop them from saying anything else. Birkhoff's shoulders hunched even more as he concentrated on his task. "It's not as easy as you think!"

Nikita let out a huff and turned on her heel to go.

Entering the armory, she peeled off her ripped, dirty shirt and threw it to the side. Taking out one of the emergency bags they had kept in the cabinet, Nikita changed into a black razor-backed tank top (so as not to irritate her injury further), leggings, and boots. She finished off her on-a-mission sort of uniform by grabbing a bulletproof vest and an ever-functional leather jacket.

But it took her a bit longer than usual to change because of the open wound on her shoulder. Apparently all the events that occurred made her and Michael forget that she still had to be patched and bandaged up. Nikita just winced at the pain and shook it off. There wasn't time for that anymore.

Striding over to the other side of the room, she pulled out a black duffel bag and started to stuff it with different firearms – from pistols to sub-machine guns – and so many clips that she lost count. She also threw in some remote charges and grenades for good measure.

Just as she lifted the strap of the bag, Nikita let out a gasp. The strain she had placed on her arm exacerbated her wound, making it shoot a blinding pain. She dropped to her knees on the floor and clutched her injured arm with her free hand. She could feel blood trickling down her shoulder. Biting her lower lip and squeezing her eyes shut, Nikita endured the waves of pain and silently wished and waited for it to go away.

"Nikita? _Nikita_!"

Opening her eyes, she saw that Michael had entered the room and dashed over to her. He always had a knack for perfect timing, always seeing her at her most vulnerable. His face contorted into that of concern, seeing her condition.

"I'm fine," she muttered. "It's nothing."

"Nikita –"

"I said _I'm fine_, Michael." She hissed. It was frustrating to her, not being able to move as quickly as she would've like. She knew she couldn't afford anymore delays. The more time apart, the smaller their window of opportunity of finding Ilya and the others was.

Nikita let out a small grunt as Michael helped her get up. He grabbed the bag, her vest, and her jacket in one hand, and secured the other around her waist for support.

"Maybe you should stay." He told her as they left the armory. "I could –"

"No way." Nikita interrupted, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "Don't even _think_ about it."

He didn't answer her, except for a slight roll of the eyes at her stubbornness.

They remained silent on their way back to the living room.

In some part of her mind, Nikita made a mental note that she might have to pack some anesthetic before they go.

"I have their location!" Birkhoff announced, when he caught sight of the pair, "They're currently in Diamond Valley heading west."

"Diamond Valley," Nikita repeated as Michael sat her (somewhat forcefully) down on the couch. He also pulled the bulletproof vest and leather jacket away from her when she tried to reach for it, making her glare at him. But he just turned around and placed everything he was holding on a worktable. She frowned as she thought aloud, "That's about sixteen minutes from here."

Michael, who had opened the bag to check on the items that had been packed, stiffened. Facing them, his expression was alarmed as he stated, "They're heading for the airport."

Nikita glanced up to him, her eyes wide.

The airport…

Right.

But the time it'll take for them to even just _reach _the place…

Her heart sank.

She whispered, "We'll never make it in time."

_No…_

The image of Ilya, Alex, and Owen flashed through Nikita's mind.

_It can't be…_

"No, we still can," Michael said, straightening up. He walked over to Birkhoff and pointed to the screen. His voice was firm and commanding as he ordered, "Hack into the airport's system. Flight navigation, cameras, satellites, everything."

"Include all heliports too," Nikita stated, pushing her mind to focus. She tried to recall all the fastest ex-fil points she knew about the place, "There's at least two on the island, excluding the resorts. One in Port St. Charles and in Bridgetown."

"The one in Bridgetown is closed." Birkhoff interrupted, "It's not operational."

"No," Michael shook his head, "It's still an airstrip. It can still be used. Hack into all of them."

It didn't take more than 20 seconds before Birkhoff said, "Done. Now what?"

Michael hesitated, making Nikita glance up to him. He looked unsure of what to say, what to decide on. He glanced at the broken window then back to the computers. Another second passed before she saw the resolve that finally settled in his face. Setting his jaw, he said, "Do your worst. Make sure no flight gets in or out of this island for the longest time possible."

Getting up and walking over to the windows, Nikita peeked behind the Kevlar blinds. It was already dark and still raining hard outside. Turning around, comprehension dawned on her face as she realized Michael's plan. By having the systems in the airport's air traffic control tower malfunction, incoming flights would most likely be redirected while all of the outgoing ones would have a strong chance to be advised to stay aground. They'd all be stuck on the island until the weather got better or when the systems got back up and running.

There was still a possibility that the Division strike team would take a risk and fly out though. It was dangerous and a hell lot of crazy but it was something they would do (it was actually what she would do too in certain situations). But hopefully the weather – the one thing that was on their side – would be enough to delay them even for just a few minutes, or if with any luck, maybe hours.

It wasn't much to bank on. But they didn't have any other options.

Birkhoff looked somewhat stunned. He had removed his fingers from the keyboard so fast it was as if they had caught on fire. He questioned, "Are you serious? We're talking about _international_ air traffic here."

"Just do it!" Nikita spat harshly. When things were over, she really was gonna have to suck up and apologize to her friend for all her short-temperedness. But that was for another occasion. Right now, things were already time-bound and precarious enough without him doubting their decisions. They needed to move fast.

The computer expert glanced at her and let out a small sigh. For a split second, his hands were paused over the keyboard, clenching then unclenching. They all knew that once Birkhoff placed everything in motion, there was no going back.

He started typing.

A second later, Michael clamped a hand on the younger man's shoulder and added, "Check into all flight manifests too. I wanna know who's been in the island in the last week. See if you could run them through facial recognition on all known Division agents."

Ignoring the pain in her shoulder every time she moved her arm, Nikita went over to the duffel bag to get a handgun. She strapped one into her boot, her thigh holster, and one by her back. By the time she had tucked a knife in her other boot, Michael was already by her side. He took her hand just as she reached over to get an extra set of fully-loaded clips.

"You're still bleeding." He said, glancing at her shoulder.

"It doesn't matter," Nikita pulled her hand out of his grasp, wincing a bit at the pain that shot throughout her arm.

"Yes, it does," Michael argued, "You're wounded. You –"

"I can still hold a gun," She cut him off, looking up to him. Though there was fear and anxiety in the surface, there was also determination that flared behind her eyes.

He continued to stare at her with some apprehension and doubt. "Nikita–"

"Oh holy Batman."

"What?" Michael and Nikita said in unison, turning their heads towards Birkhoff.

The younger man leaned in closer to the computer screen and squinted. "The Flight Service Station flagged an incoming plane in Grantley Adams a few minutes ago."

"Who's it registered to?" Michael asked.

Birkhoff swallowed as he faced them. Looking a bit wan, he informed them, "Zetrov."

Silence swept through them as they took in that information. Nikita felt her chest tighten. Her knees went weak, making her lean on the edge of the table for support.

It was bad enough that they had to deal with Division, now Gogol was going to join the foray too? Did the two organizations team up, or was this going to be a three-way fight?

Either one, they were the underdogs. They were already outgunned and outnumbered as it is.

"It can't be a coincidence." Michael said quietly.

"They're here for Alex." Nikita heard herself say. The words just escaped her lips but her mind wasn't really processing it. But it appeared to be the only thought that made sense. Panic rose again as another realization hit her. Turning to the man by her side, she uttered in a voice barely above a whisper, "Michael, we have to go. If they mistake Ilya as Alex's daughter, she could be…"

Her lower lip trembled. She couldn't say it. Much less think about it.

"Whoa, whoa, wait." Birkhoff suddenly said, making them look at him again. He frowned as he typed rapidly. After he noisily jabbed the last key, he turned one computer screen towards Michael and Nikita. "There's a message."

They both went closer to read it.

_Nikita. 7:00. Tonight. Come alone._

"Come alone?" Michael repeated. His eyebrows knitted as he stared at the screen, reading the message again as if trying to find a hidden meaning somewhere. "Where?"

"They're banking on us to find them." Nikita was feeling sick. "Or they know that Ilya has a tracker."

"But alone? That's suicide," Birkhoff said, quickly glancing at her. Worry was visible in his eyes. Worry for _her_.

Turning around, Nikita felt like she was in a daze. She walked over to the couch and sat down, running a hand through her hair. A resigned sigh escaped her lips.

_Why_?

By getting to her, the others had to suffer. Nikita felt disgusted with herself. It was all because of her that everyone, and her own daughter, was in danger. It was all her fault.

Why did every person she cared about somehow always ended up getting hurt?

Looking up, Nikita gazed at Michael and Birkhoff, who were talking in low tones (no doubt planning some sort of alternative plan). Before long, her heart couldn't take it anymore. It was too much. If Ilya, Alex, and Owen weren't enough, she also worried about the two men who she loved with all her heart, and who have known her for the most time too.

She looked at Birkhoff, the brother she never had, the person she had owed her life to so many times that she already lost count. And then to Michael, her partner, the love of her life. She had only gotten him back. They were finally a family…

Her eyes stung with repressed tears. She couldn't bear to let anything bad happen to them.

She knew if they were to defy the order on the message and attack, the chances of all of them escaping with their lives were very slim.

She couldn't have that.

_Maybe going alone really is the better choice_, Nikita thought. Yes, it may be suicide, but at least, no one else would be placed in harm's way. If Division wanted her so much, she could exchange her life for the others.

She could accept that.

"We don't have a choice," she stated, standing up. Her voice was steady and resolute as she looked at them, "It's the only way."

Michael was in front of her in a couple of strides. He told her, "Nikita, we are facing Division, probably even Gogol–"

"It's the _only _way, Michael," she pressed. Her brown eyes were pleading for him to understand. _Please_.

His lips formed a hard line as he stared at her. A muscle in his jaw twitched. His eyes were intense as he said, "I'm still coming with you."

"_No_, Michael," She gripped his arm with her right hand. Her nails dug into his skin as her throat seemed to close in on her. Why couldn't he see that it was the only way for everything to stop? Her voice was strained and thick as she reasoned, "They only want _me_. It would only complicate the situation if you were there too."

_I can't lose you_.

But she found herself not being able to say those 4 words.

"You don't think I'm letting you go in there alone, do you?" His voice rose, the green in his eyes darkening, "You're already wounded–"

"I can handle myself."

"You're emotionally-compromised!"

"And you're not?" She shot back at him fiercely. Though she instantly regretted it when she saw the flicker of hurt that passed through Michael's expression. Guilt bit her heart again.

She's always caused pain to those she loved.

Turning her back to him, Nikita walked over to the duffel bag to check for some last minute additions. She glanced at the clock. She had less than 40 minutes to get wherever she needed to go. Birkhoff was just going to have to send the location to her. She had to leave now.

Even if Michael and Birkhoff weren't going to listen to her, she was still going to do this.

"Nikita, listen to me," Michael said, approaching her. He gripped her uninjured arm and pulled her to face him. He appeared to have a calm, collected expression but she could see the waves of emotions hidden behind those green eyes. He tried to explain, enunciating every word, "This is Division and Gogol. You know how they operate. They will never let you leave–"

"_I don't care_!" she finally snapped. Staring back at him, she pulled her arm away from his hold. She shook her head. He didn't understand that she's doing this to protect them. "As long as I get Ilya back – even if I get killed, as long as Ilya and you and the others are safe."

There was a change in the expression of Michael's eyes. She knew her words were harsh but it was the only way. He had to know how far she was willing to go.

And she needed to tell herself that too.

Seeing that she wasn't going to give up no matter what he would say, Michael closed his eyes briefly.

"Fine," he sighed. It was evident on his face that his decision almost physically pained him. Looking at her, he said, calmly, "Turn around."

"What?"

"Let me bandage you up first."

She opposed, "Michael, we don't have time–"

"I'll be quick." He told her, making her sit on the couch. "You still have about thirty-eight minutes. I'll only need five."

Surprisingly, Nikita agreed to be patched up. Most likely because she thought that she'd be able to move better without the constant feeling of blood trickling down her back. And five minutes was enough for her to formulate some kind of haphazard plan on what she was going to do.

She winced a bit when Michael injected her arm. But she was so caught up in her own thoughts to mind the sting, and the heat that radiated from it.

It was only by the time she was getting around on a possible ex-fil plan (and Michael was finishing on his bandaging – he really was quick) that she realized something was definitely wrong. Her breathing was slowing down. Almost too slow, too relaxed. Her thoughts were getting sluggish, like her mind was shutting off. Everything around her was becoming somewhat blurry. Her eyelids were getting heavier. And the couch looked so, _so_ _appealing_.

Nikita gasped.

_No…_

Whipping around, she lost balance and almost collided with Michael's chest. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she forced to center her unfocused gaze on him, "What-what the hell did you do?"

Even her words seemed to slur.

"I'm sorry, Nikki," she heard a voice behind her, Birkhoff, say. He lightly touched her shoulder. Looking at him, she saw that he was holding a small vial in his hands. A sedative-hypnotic. Damn him. "But I can't have you go all kamikaze-crazy on us."

"Nikita," Michael whispered gently as he placed a hand behind her neck and gently guided her down on the couch. Pushing some hair away from her face, he said softly, "You have to check out on this one. You're injured and too volatile to be on this mission... I just love you too much to risk it."

Damn them both.

"But Ilya…" she breathed, fighting against her eyes that were threatening to close.

"I promise you, I _will _get our daughter back," she felt a light pressure on her forehead as Michael kissed it. "No matter what it takes."

She grasped his shirt with all the remaining strength she could muster. "Michael…"

And then the darkness consumed her, forcing her into unconsciousness.

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><p><strong>Well?<strong>

**Not much of a cliffhanger like the previous chapters, but close enough, right? Besides, maybe we need a break from horrible endings for a bit. Haha.**

**Leave a Review, okay? Let me know if you liked it, hated it, random comments – anything! As always, they will be very much appreciated. Thank you so much in advance – and for reading! :)**

**Oh, and one thing… Why does the CW keep giving our favorite show stupid breaks in between episodes just when it's beginning to get intense? It seriously kills the momentum and the mood. Not to mention the ratings. Ugh.**

**And for the love of all things that is Nikita, they should renew the show already!**

**Okay, I'm done for now. I'm gonna crawl back into a dark corner and mourn for the death of one of the characters on the show that I liked so much (no names, just in case some of you haven't seen that last ep yet. Haha).**

**Till the next update! Keep safe everyone. ;)**

**xx Dani**


	16. Chapter 15: Dire

**For the Guest who left a review a few hours ago telling me to update this story, I dedicate this chapter to you. Here it is! You seriously have one awesome timing. Haha. ;)**

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><p><strong>Okay, I'm going to say my THANK YOUs for all your support and love now before I wouldn't have any chance to do so after the end of this chapter. ;)<strong>

**Some of you probably hate me right now. Haha… But I know I've given you all reason to.**

**For one thing, I left you all with a sort of cliffhanger in the previous chapter and did not update for the longest time (sorry!). But if you must know, there's still more and possibly much worse cliffies to come.**

**And the second… well… how about we save that for the end of this update, shall we?**

**So I'm gonna let you all read now. Enjoy!**

**(I hope.)**

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><p><span>Chapter 15: Dire<span>

"_It would mean an end to all our futures_." – 2x05

The first sense to return was Nikita's hearing.

She didn't understand it at first. She didn't understand why Birkhoff's voice pierced through the darkness. It was so loud for her sensitive ears. And grating. And he _just wouldn't stop._

Does the guy ever know when to shut up?

When Nikita opened her eyes, she almost instantly regretted it. Her head felt like it was going to split open. But a few seconds later, the pain subsided a bit, becoming more tolerable.

Everything was still a bit hazy though. She blinked at the sight of the glowing dashboard lights. Too bright.

Nikita squeezed her eyes shut when she pulled herself to sit up. A groan escaped her lips as her body felt like it weighed tons. Everything didn't seem right. It was like she had just woken up with a massive hangover.

"Oh God, Nikki, finally you're up!" She heard Birkhoff exclaim when he saw her. She winced at the loudness of his voice as he continued to ramble on, "The tranquilizer's effect was only supposed to be for thirty minutes. I was getting worried that you –"

"I should kill you," she interrupted him, bringing a hand to the side of her head.

"That's great," he said, his voice sounding oddly distracted. The rapid tapping of keys echoed inside the car. "Now I know you're fully awake."

With her memory of everything that happened quickly returning, Nikita could feel her panic reclaiming her at full force. She didn't know what to do as a thousand thoughts ran through her head at that moment.

"Where are we?" was the first question that came out of her lips.

"About a quarter of a mile from Bridgetown Heliport." Birkhoff told her as he scanned through what looked like a blueprint of a building in his tablet while balancing his laptop between his legs and the steering wheel. He continued, "You were right. The place was supposedly closed but they somehow managed to get access to it."

"Not the first time they've done that." Nikita commented. She narrowed her eyes on the computer screen, trying to make sense on what she was seeing. But everything still seemed somewhat hazy. She still had to adjust to the darkness of the car, and the brightness of the lights from all the electronic gadgets.

"What's the status?"

Birkhoff's eyebrows knitted and then he clucked his tongue in frustration. "It's, uhh, complicated."

"What?" Nikita pulled herself closer to the space in between the front seats of the car. But as she exerted some force, a sudden pain shot from her shoulder, making her inhale sharply. She had forgotten that she was shot. And now, looking down at herself, she finally realized why something else felt weird. Her left arm was in a sling.

Crap.

This was going to be a bit difficult.

"I lost communication with Michael a few minutes ago when he entered the building," Birkhoff explained, giving her a brief glance before returning it to the screen on his laptop. He had opened another program and was trying to access a different network. His fingers skimmed rapidly over the keys as he typed in commands and access codes.

"What building?" She asked while fumbling around the duffel bag she found close to her feet. There were guns and ammunition, but she was searching for something else.

"The hangar for Bajan Helicopters. The moment he stepped into the building, his comm, his tracker – all went offline. They must've placed a jamming field over or something. That's the last thing I know."

Nikita found what she was looking for: a bottle of painkillers. She couldn't be more thankful that Michael still remembered to pack some of it even if he did unceremoniously drug her earlier (she was still pissed at him for that but she wasn't thinking about it for the moment. There were other more important matters that needed to be dealt with). Popping the cap open, she took out 3 white pills and downed them dry. She knew taking more than the recommended number of extra-strength narcotic analgesics was overkill for a former druggie like her, and would probably tip her nearer to the edge of a relapse, but she didn't care. She'll work better without the nagging pain from her shoulder.

Besides, she didn't think she'd live longer before a relapse can take place. She probably might get shot first.

A grim thought, but highly possible.

"Move," Nikita said while un-strapping her sling.

"What?" Birkhoff gave her a quick look.

"I said _move_," she shooed him. Placing her hand on the headrest, she winced a bit at the pain but it was getting more bearable by the minute. The fast-acting analgesic was already starting to take effect. Using her other arm, she clutched the back of Birkhoff's jacket and pulled him to the passenger side of the car. Crawling nimbly between the seats, she said, "I'm driving."

"Wait, Nikki –"

"Just tell where to go."

Turning the keys in the ignition, the car revved to life. Nikita tried to focus. She had to get to Michael and the others before it was too late. The feeling in her gut knew that something was going to go horribly wrong. She had to be there. Squinting, she looked outside the window but couldn't see anything. Even with the lights on, she still couldn't see more than a few feet out. It was too dark and the pouring rain was not helping with the visibility.

"Nikki, we should hold back–"

"What part of 'tell me where to go' did you not understand?" She snapped.

"Head north."

Nikita peeled off the side of the street in a matter of seconds, bearing for the direction Birkhoff gave her. She was driving fast but it didn't seem to be enough. If it weren't for the heavy rain, she probably would've cranked up the speed even more. It frustrated her that everything seemed slower than usual.

"What's the lay-out?"

"It's your basic hangar. Only two entrances. One door on the east side and another for the aircrafts on the south. No windows, no ventilation hatches." Birkhoff was silent for a few moments as he typed into his laptop. The glow from the screen and the dashboard threw his features into relief but gave him a sickly look. When the scan was done, he added, "Thermal signature shows three people on the outside. One at each entry way, and one in the helicopter by the pad. Michael took out most of the perimeter guards earlier. Could be more inside though."

A slight frown crossed Nikita's features. There were too many people and, being a hangar, probably not that much cover inside. Tactically, it was bad. Ire bubbled inside Nikita when she thought of Michael's recklessness and stupidity for sedating her. It should have been her that was in the building right now not him.

"Are Ilya and the others there too?" She asked.

"I can only see Ilya," Birkhoff said, almost warily. He kept on giving her a sideward glance, nervous at her edginess. "They can't scramble the signal from the tracker you implanted in her somehow. I don't know about Alex and Owen."

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Something doesn't feel right."

"Yeah, umm," he mumbled. He scooted further down his seat before he continued, "That's probably because Gogol's at the location too."

"_What_?"

"They're at the heliport too." He repeated, paling slightly when he saw her livid expression. His voice grew smaller when he said, "Seems like it was a joint operation to take us down."

Nikita felt like she was going to be sick. She tried to keep steady and focused her gaze on the road. But her grip on the wheel was so tense that her knuckles had already turned white. She managed to push the words through her gritted teeth, "And Michael knew about this?"

"Yeah."

"Dammit," she muttered, exasperatedly. The car sped up a bit faster. They were almost there. A few more minutes.

Birkhoff remained silent. He even stopped typing into his laptop. Glancing up at Nikita, he looked almost as if unsure he should say anything else or not because it might set her off even more. Given their current situation, that would most likely be the case. But after taking almost a minute, probably to gather his resolve, he swallowed then said gently, "You know, there's a reason why Mikey drugged you back there, Nikki."

"I don't want to hear about it." Nikita answered him dryly. Her voice was firm. "I'm the one who's supposed to be there. This isn't his fight."

Birkhoff let out a scoff. "For your kid and the others? I think it's just a hell's much of his fight too. And mine."

"You don't get it." Nikita spat, looking at him through the corner of her eyes. Her voice sounded harsher than she intended but she didn't care. There were a lot of things on her mind right now and the appropriateness of her tone was not one of them. All the things she kept inside just barreled out as she reasoned, "They wanted _me_, Birkhoff_._ I would've went there in exchange for everyone's safety. A sacrifice. I was willing to do something happened to them, to Ilya, or Michael…"

She paused. A lump had lodged across her throat at that thought.

Forcing it back down, she shook her head. Her eyes annoyingly began to prickle too. She added, careful not to let her voice break, "It's all my fault."

Looking out the window, Birkhoff remained silent. He was descent enough to let Nikita compose herself. She was grateful for that. When he gazed back at her, his expression showed understanding and fear. For her life. It was sweet, in a way. He said, "Nikki –"

"We're here." She interrupted, pulling up a few feet outside a fenced up lot. She had turned off the car's lights a way back but they still could see the place because of the dim lights faintly spilling from the building, which they could only assume was the hangar, in the distance. She asked, the firmness of her voice indicating that their conversation a few seconds earlier was closed, "Are there any changes?"

Birkhoff stared into his laptop then shook his head. "Nothing. Number of heat sigs still the same."

Running through the information in her mind, Nikita tried to map out a possible plan.

Her priority was the safety of her daughter, at the very least. But not knowing the condition of Michael, Alex, and Owen was something she could not ignore. They were her family too. Aside from Ilya, there weren't anyone else she kept close to her heart as she did them.

But she wasn't a superhuman. She was just one person. Against many. And they had a gun to the very heart of everything she held dear.

She was conflicted. She didn't know where to go first. How to save everyone. But she had to make a choice. Somehow.

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Nikita glanced at Birkhoff, who was typing something into his computer. She briefly closed her eyes and bit her lower lip in frustration. With her out in the field, her friend was left vulnerable to any type of attack too. And with Division and Gogol involved, she just couldn't take any chances.

But… maybe there was a way for him.

She inhaled deeply.

"When I get out, you go. Put a safe distance between you and this place," Nikita instructed calmly while staring at a spot on the steering wheel.

He didn't say anything.

Taking her friend's silence for his understanding, Nikita moved on to double-check the knife and guns she was going to bring with her. Reaching into the duffel bag at the back seat, she took out the bottle of painkillers again. She popped another pill into her mouth, just to be sure, and tucked the bottle into her back pocket. She knew that she may be adding more fuel to the fire of her past drug-addicted self but desperate times called for desperate measures.

It was at that moment that she noticed that Birkhoff was watching her. Worry evident in his eyes.

But she ignored him.

When Nikita was done and ready, she closed her eyes briefly once more and let out a sigh. She then turned to look at the scruffy face of her longest and most loyal friend. One whom she might never see again. She didn't want to be pessimistic but she had to face the reality of their situation. And it wasn't good. Her heart ached in her chest as she thought about what she was going to say.

It was hard. But it had to be done. For his safety.

She took another deep breath. She was running out of time and she needed to finish this.

"If you don't hear from me or anyone in twenty minutes…" She said slowly, enunciating every word carefully, "run. Abort everything and save yourself."

Birkhoff stared at her blankly, probably not understanding what she meant. When comprehension dawned on his face, he blinked. The horror of the possibility became clear in his face. His eyes widened as he fought back, "N-no! How could you even say – Nikki–!"

Reaching over and placing a hand on his arm, Nikita steadied him. She then moved her hand to cup his cheek. Her throat had become so thick at that moment that it was getting hard to say what she needed to. She stared into his eyes and tried to gently plead with him, "Just go. And never look back, okay? Move on."

Trying to lighten the mood, she added, "The world still needs a nerd like you."

But he didn't take her words kindly.

Birkhoff pushed her hand away and leaned back. He looked at her disbelievingly. Shaking his head, he said, "I warned you not to go kamikaze-crazy on me, Nikki. B-but this – this is just plain _bonkers_. I am _not _leaving you or anyone behind!"

"Birkhoff –"

He shook his head again. "We're still gonna see each other again so I'm gonna wait."

Nikita kept her gaze level with him for a moment longer. He didn't see the danger of it all. Or didn't _want to _was more like it. She wanted to give him an appreciative and grateful smile but now was not a moment for him to be all brave and noble. Birkhoff had to survive, no matter what. If there was one thing she could ever ask for him, it was that he live the life he – and all of them – had always wanted, free.

She really hoped that for him. For all of them.

But maybe she wasn't supposed to have that. Maybe her freedom had a deadline.

Maybe she'll know after tonight.

Her hands had just closed on the door lever when she heard Birkhoff say, "May the Force be with you, Nikki."

A small, lopsided smile briefly passed through Nikita's lips.

In a soft and gentle voice, she replied, "You too, Nerd."

Nikita exited the car and waited for her friend to climb behind the steering wheel before closing the door. It was only a matter of seconds for her to be completely soaked in the rain but she didn't leave her place until he drove away (she half-expected that he would stay put in that spot but then again, it was better if he placed some distance between himself and the place. Nikita would have one less thing to worry about). When the darkness finally engulfed the car, it was the time that Nikita made her move towards the hangar.

Guided by the light from the building in the distance, and the occasional flash of lightning, she approached the compound as quietly as she could. The rain did help in masking the sounds of her footsteps. But it was terribly messing with her vision. She had to keep wiping her eyes to rid of the sting whenever the droplets of rain hit them. It also didn't help that a shiver kept on running down her spine whenever the wind picked up.

When she got to the fence of the compound, she paused to look for any movement – not that it really helped because she couldn't see past a few steps in front of her. As she crept her way towards the gate, she strained her ears to listen for any other sounds aside from the pelting rain and the low rumble of thunder in the distance.

"_One of the guards is about 10 meters to your right," _Birkhoff's voice filtered in through her comm unit.

Nikita paused at that. She was a bit surprised to be honest. First, was because she didn't remember putting on a comm unit. But then she guessed that she has been used to wearing one before and didn't really notice it anymore when she wore one now. And two, she didn't expect t her friend's help at that point.

Then she realized that no matter what, Birkhoff was still going to continue and give her support and be her lifeline up till they lost contact. Or even past that. It didn't matter what she did or ordered that he should keep safe. He was just as stubborn as she was.

Grateful of his help nevertheless, she made her way to the direction given. And sure enough, with the dim light casting his silhouette, there was a Division agent a few meters away from her. He was securing his assigned area, keeping an eye on the surrounding perimeter, enduring the rain and darkness. Diligent.

Just not for the right mission.

With his back to Nikita, he never saw her coming. She took him out silently by swiping his legs from underneath him and striking the back of his neck. Her approach had to be non-lethal so as not to alert the others when the agent's tracker went offline. Though it will probably not matter that much since they would all soon know about her presence, she still had to buy some time. Even the smallest element of surprise was an advantage.

"He's down," Nikita said, prying the fallen agent's semiautomatic firearm from his hands. There was a strange humming sound in the distance, but she couldn't see what was the source. Touching her comm, she asked, "Where's the next?"

"_Uhh, way across the compound. There's two on the other side of the building, by the helipad to your left – oh wait. Now there's three. But there's a door to the hangar on the east side to your right._"

Nikita quickly looked at both directions. She was most certainly closer to the helipad. She weighed things out. Taking down the remaining agents would certainly help if things ever ended up in a gunfight. She'd have three less people to worry about.

But for every minute Michael was without communication, the danger was greater.

"How long has it been since you lost contact with Michael?"

"_About… twelve minutes ago_."

Nikita shook her head. No, twelve minutes was too long. Her panic rose but she was quick to quell it. She had to focus. She had to make sure.

"I'm going for Michael and the others," she informed Birkhoff as she ran to the side of the two-storey tall facility. The concrete wall was cold and wet as she pressed up to it. With the wind and rain getting stronger, it made moving a bit more difficult. Her lips and fingertips were a bit numb from the frigid air. But it was a good thing that the painkillers still seem to be holding up. She couldn't feel that much pain from her shoulder.

Then again, it could just be the adrenaline.

Securing the gun close to her, she crept along the side of the wall. The nearer she got to the corner, the bigger the light that spilled out of the entryway. She was close.

But just as she rounded the corner, a figure came out of the hangar. Another agent. Probably to check on why one of their men was not responding. Nikita stopped short and quickly doubled back. Luckily, the other person hadn't seen her.

Lurking just out of the reach of the light, Nikita waited for the agent to pass her. When he was at a safe distance away from the building, she crept up behind him. The rain and that humming sound continued to mask her footsteps.

She tapped him on the shoulder. The agent turned around just as she swung the butt of her gun to the side of his head. He was knocked out before he could even see who hit him.

Stepping over the agent's unconscious body, Nikita made her way back to the side of the building. The rain had lessened a bit, but that humming sound was still there. If anything, it got even louder. And it was on the other side of the building.

A gasp escaped her frozen lips as she realized what that sound was. The rotating blades of a helicopter.

Someone was leaving.

She had to move fast.

As if on cue, Birkhoff's voice erupted through her earpiece, "_I'm getting a signal by the helipad_!"

Nikita immediately crouched down by the side entrance of the hangar. Touching her comm, she hurriedly asked, "Whose is it?"

"_I have Owen_!" A second later, he added, "_And Alex_!"

A quick sigh escaped Nikita's lips as some relief washed over her. At least she now knew that Alex and Owen were within close range.

And more importantly, _alive_.

Taking another deep breath and looking down at the gun in her hands, Nikita realized that she was going at this all wrong. She would probably be better off saving Owen and Alex first so that she can have back-up when she went to rescue Michael and Ilya instead of going in blind and alone.

God knows, she was going to need all the help she can get.

The hard questioned that still remained though was _how _to rescue them.

"_I'm registering five tangos by the tarmac_."

Okay, first and foremost, she had to regroup. _Now_. Five people to be taken out was not going to be an easy feat.

But maybe she could formulate a plan if she got to see what she was going to deal with.

Retracing her steps, Nikita sprinted to the other end of the building. As much as she hated not being able to go to her daughter and Michael first, she had to do this. Saving Owen and Alex meant that they may have a fighting chance.

Hope flooded through her veins as her heart picked up pace.

_Maybe there is a way out of this after all._

_Maybe everything might not be as hopeless as it seems._

_Maybe there was a tomorrow waiting for them._

As Nikita approached the corner, she could hear the rhythmic beating sounds of the helicopter's rotor blades grow louder and louder. And because of the vortex it created, the wind picked up too, pushing forcefully and coldly against her as she came closer. The only good thing though, the rain had lessened a bit so she was able to see a couple of feet more ahead of her.

Let things work in her favor, Nikita thought as she trudged on.

_Please_.

The desperation and the weight of wanting to make things work her way had barely sunk in when a strangled cry pierced through the icy night air.

Nikita froze.

_No._

_Don't let it be._

"Alex," the name slipped through her numb lips.

_No. Let nothing happen to her_.

But just as she reached the edge of the building, the scene Nikita saw in front of her made her blood run cold.

Alex was inside the helicopter, hopelessly trying to fight off the two brawny men holding her down.

But she wasn't the one immediately needed to be worried about.

It was the man kneeling on the tarmac.

Her heart dropped.

It was a bad sign. A defeated posture.

And when the lightning flashed, she saw why.

Blood streamed down his face, his body, his arms. It pooled and dripped from his handcuffed hands. It stained the little puddles of water surrounding him a diluted ruby color.

He was wounded, bruised, and exhausted.

And being held at gunpoint.

The name was ripped out of Nikita's mouth before she could even think better of it.

"_Owen_!"

But her voice was drowned out by the sudden roar of thunder and the gunshot that echoed through the sky.

* * *

><p><strong>Uhh… I think I should go hide now.<strong>

**xx Dani**

**(Reviews would be nice. If that's not too much to ask. Even if they're flames, it would still be okay too. I'll gratefully accept them all the same.)**


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